


Supernatural Imagines

by IdSellMySoulForRecentlyUpdatedFanfiction



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Awesome Balthazar, Bobby Knows, Bobby's House, Castiel Does Not Understand, Crowley Being an Asshole, F/F, F/M, Gabriel Lives, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Good Ruby, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Lucifer Being a Dick, Lucifer Possessing Nick, M/M, Meg Being an Asshole, Meg Lives, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Ruby Being an Asshole, Sassy Balthazar, Sassy Crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 167
Words: 95,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdSellMySoulForRecentlyUpdatedFanfiction/pseuds/IdSellMySoulForRecentlyUpdatedFanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TAKING REQUESTS</p>
<p>Mild language very often, but it's the Winchesters so what would you expect? A collections of Supernatural Imagines, as stated in the title.</p>
<p>(Also this is prob only gonna be updated twice to three times a week cause I do have other things I should be updating)</p>
<p>Completely not edited except for unenthusiastic skimming after finishing a chapter, and google translate is used for languages that aren't English, all English mistakes are my bad, all other language mistakes are cause google translate sucks ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean 1

**_(Y/N)  = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean walking in on you singing Cherry Pie really loudly**

 

        **"** She's my Cherry pie! Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise! Tastes so good make a grown man cry. Sweet cherry pie!" Echoes around the house, not just from the radio. "She's my cherry pie! Put a smile on your face, ten miles wide! Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye. Sweet cherry pie, yeah!"

       "Knock knock." A deep voice interrupts (Y/N), causing (him/her/them) to spin around with wide eyes. Cherry Pie continues playing in the background as red slowly takes over (Y/N)'s cheeks. (she/he/they) turns back around, pausing the music and pulling a strand of (Y/H/C) hair behind (him/her/them)ear.

       "...Hey..." (she/he/they) whispers, obviously embarrassed.

       "Hello there." Dean chuckles, still leaning against the doorway.

       "...How long have you been there?"

       "Most of the song."

       " _Dean!_ " (Y/N) shrieks, (his/her/their) entire face red.

       "What? I like your voice." Dean comments, walking closer and sitting on the table. He grabs a slice of pie, one (Y/N) has just finished making a few minutes ago. Ironically, it was cherry.

       "S-still! You don't just- you don't just  _stand_  there and listen to somebody sing! That's rude!" (Y/N) exclaims, face still a bright red. Dean rolls his eyes, the green orbs focusing on the stove behind (Y/N).

       "Might wanna check on that." He comments and the flustered (boy/girl/other) cusses before grabbing oven mitts and pulling the almost burned pie out. (She/He/They) use(s) the mitts to try to cool off the pie a bit before turning back to Dean. (She/He/They) lean(s) against the counter, crossing (his/her/their) arms and staring at the older winchester. "What?" Dean asks, looking up from his pie with a raised eyebrow.

       "Aren't you gonna apologize?"

       "For what?"

       "For just walking in here and standing in the doorway like a stalker! I don't know about you but I'm not used to people doing that!" (Y/N) exclaims. "It's creepy."

       "Ugghhhh." Dean groans, stuffing another forkful of pie into his mouth. He takes a swig from his beer, causing (Y/N) to make a face. (She/He/They) doesn't/don't really care for the alcohol. He looks at (Y/N) again, scowling a bit when he sees (him/her/them) still staring at him. "I'm sorry, alright? It's just singing anyways; I like it." Dean comments, putting his dish in the sink. (Y/N) rolls (his/her/their) eyes, grabbing a cup and pouring some soda into it. (She/He/They) hear(s) a small excited noise come from the living room and (she/he/they) raise(s) an eyebrow, looking around the door frame. The titan of a man named Sam almost mows (him/her/them) down in his hurry to get into the kitchen.

       "Oh, shit. Sorry (Y/N). So get this, that spirit we've been hunting..." And that's when (Y/N) tunes out, leaving the information for the taller of the three.


	2. Crowley 1

**_(Y/N)  = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color_ **

 

**Imagine running from Crowley and bumping into Sam and Dean, and when they ask where he is Crowley appears behind them drinking tea**

 

       Tree branches scratch at (Y/N)'s (Y/S/C) skin, cutting through in some areas and simply irritating others. (Y/N) stumbles through the woods blindly, calling out to (her/his/their) friends. (she/he/they) can hear the deep voices screaming (her/his/their) name but (she/he/they) can't see. Everything is dark and cold and missing. (Y/N) clutches (her/his/their) stomach as a particularly strong branch smacks into (her/his/their) stomach, knocking the wind out of her. As (she/he/they) stumbles into a clearing (she/he/they) can hear Dean's deep voice from the ot(her/his/their) side. (she/he/they) can hear his heavy footsteps as his boots slam against the hard earth. As he nears a familiar high pitched ringing sounds behind (her/his/their) and (she/he/they) screams, picking herself back up and running towards the elder Winchester. "Dean!"

       "(Y/N)!" Dean shouts back, drawing nearer. (Y/N) can hear Sam as he bursts into the clearing. All three of them are breathing heavily but (Y/N) is the worst. Warm liquid  _drip drip drips_  onto (her/his/their) eyelid and slowly slithers down (her/his/their) face and onto (her/his/their) lips. (she/he/they) doesn't/don't dare to open (her/his/their) mouth before (she/he/they) wipe(s) (her/his/their) face with the back of (her/his/their) hand.

       "Dean..." (Y/N) sobs into a flannel, (her/his/their) hands finding purchases in the probably plaid clothing. The leather jacket is damp from the dew and soft drizzle covering the not-so-soft grass and floating down from the sky. Somewhere thunder shakes the earth as Sam grabs (Y/N) and holds (her/his/their) against him protectively.

       "(Y/N)... Oh god (Y/N). What did that fucker do to you?" Sam whispers as Dean pulls something, probably a cleaning/polishing rag. He hands it to Sam and the younger Winchester wipes off (Y/N)'s face, dropping the rag in disgust. Dean hands him another and Sam holds it against the wound on (Y/N)'s forehead.

       "I can't see... Sam I can't see. He took away my sight." (Y/N) whispers, (her/his/their) voice and bottom lip trembling. Flashbacks of pitch black night filled with crying hit (her/his/their) full force, causing (her/his/their) breath to catch. How many times has/have (she/he/they) mourned over (her/his/their) loss of sight now? How many times has (she/he/they) wondered if (she/he/they)'ll ever be able to see (her/his/their) older brothers again? One of the brothers shouts angrily, kicking a rock and sending it flying.

       "I'll tear that fucker apart!" Dean screams, only honesty and rage in his voice. (Y/N) buries (her/his/their) face in Sam's chest, trying to relax as (she/he/they) takes in the familiar scent of cheap cologne.

       "Hello, boys." A voice rumbles, causing  (Y/N) to scream and clutch at Sam. A fruity scent comes from the direction of the voice and the bubbling noise lets (Y/N) the king of hell was drinking tea. (she/he/they) turn(s) further to face away from the demon, (her/his/their) knees almost buckling. Phantom pain ghosts across (her/his/their) back and burning memories churn (her/his/their) stomach. "And (Y/N)." It's almost a side note, as if Crowley hadn't been following (Y/N) the entire time.

       "What do you want you piece of-" something cuts Dean off.

       "Ah ah ah ah. There's a teenager here, we don't use that kind of language." Crowley smirks. Even if (Y/N) can't see it (she/he/they) sure as hell can feel it.

       "Crowley. Stay away from her." Sam warns, taking a step back, bringing (Y/N) with him.

       "You have something of mine... I'd like it back." Crowley's tone is much more dangerous and full of warning.

       "Sorry buddy, nothing here for you. Haven't stolen any more of your demons yet." Dean comments, coughing roughly. His voice is a little croaky.

       "Ohhh you know what I mean. Hand (her/his/them) over."

       "You're gonna have to be a little more specific. Hand who over? The squirrel in that tree? That rabbit who agrees that you stink like the place you came from?" Dean asks, not exactly caring about the danger he's in.

       "Very funny, too bad I forgot to laugh. Hand over (Y/N) and nobody gets hurt."

       "Oh that jokes even better than mine. I'd applaud you but your head is big enough."

       "I'm not playing your games anymore, winchester. Give me the (boy/girl)."

       "And this was just getting fun. Too ba-" Dean's cut off as he flies across the clearing, Sam doing the same. (Y/N) is left floating where Sam had been holding her.

       "Nonononononono!" (she/he/they) scream(s), thrashing around. "Please, no. Please!"

       "It's a little late for that, love." Crowley chuckles before both of them disappear in a swirl of black fog and shadows.


	3. Castiel 1

****_(Y/N)  = Your Name_  
(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color  
(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color  
(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color  
  


**Imagine explaining technology to Castiel**   
  
  


        "I... Am afraid I do not understand how to work this." Cas mumbles, his deep voice echoing around the bunker. You sigh, resisting the urge to place your head in your hands.

        "What don't you understand?" You ask, (y/e/c) eyes meeting his blue ones.

        "Mostly everything." Cas replies, his head tilting to one side in confusion as he looks back to the iPhone in his hand.

        "Okay, well you push this button right here to turn it on. You can also push the button on the side but don't hold it for too long." Cas does as you explain. "Now, you can either swipe to the side, no not that side, or place your thumb on top of the button you just pushed. It already has your thumbprint memorized.

        “Okay…” Cas looks at the apps on the screen with wide eyes, confusion obvious.

        “So you can do a lot of things on this type of phone. You can call people, which is what phones are supposed to be used for, by touching that green app with the white old styled looking phone on it.” You say. Cas taps the app. Even more options. “Now, you have your recents page, which is empty because this phone is new and you haven’t called anyone and nobody has called you. You have a favorites tab but I’m pretty sure nobody uses that. You also have your contacts tab. You already have me, Dean, and Sam in there. You can add a new contact by pushing that plus button on the top. I even got you pictures for your contacts. You also have a keypad and that’s where you type in the numbers for numbers you don’t have in your contacts.”

        “What is a voicemail? How do you create mail by voice I do not understand.” Cas frowns slightly, staring at the last tab. It’s difficult for you not to laugh so you hold it in as much as you can.

        “Here, give me the phone.” You order and Cas does as you ask. You push the button, quickly saying, “alright say your name,” before the device starts recording.

        “I don’t understand why you want me to state my name Sam also asked me to do this before.” Castiel states and you stop the recording. It’s probably as close to a good voicemail greeting as you’re going to get.

        “It’s nothing important don’t worry about it.” You tell the angel, closing the app. “Oh, to close an app you want to push this button, it’s called the home button by the way. You also have a Youtube app, where you can search up all kinds of videos. You also have Messages. You can text your contacts. That means you can write what you want them to see or know and then you tap this little icon right here. It may take a while at times but your message will send eventually. I guess it depends on your reception? If you have no service, like you do on the bottom levels of the bunker, it won’t send unless you go onto one of the higher levels of the bunker.” You drone out, glancing at the time on the screen.”

        “Can I see one of the videos?” Castiel asks. You raise an eyebrow, looking at the fallen angel.

        “Yeah sure.” You say, closing the Messages app and going to Youtube. You carelessly choose one on the recommended list, not really paying attention. After about halfway through the video you turn off your own phone to look at what you put on for Cas. It was that “First Kiss” video. You barely have time to react when your jaw is suddenly grabbed and you see Castiel’s intense eyes boring into yours for a few moments before the angel leans in.


	4. Lucifer 1, 1/?

**_(Y/N)  = Your Name_**  
  
**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_**  
  
**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_**     
  
**_(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color_**

 

  
**Imagine you, a hunter, staying over at your best friend, Nick’s, house only to wake up the next morning and find Nick isn’t Nick**

 

    The sound from the TV is just loud enough to hear above the music blaring into your ears. Nick constantly scolds you about listening to things at such high volumes but he’s sleeping right now. When he actually sleeps he sleeps like a rock. He hardly ever wakes up and if he does you’re sure he won’t want to fall back asleep. You’re in the middle of a new episode of your favorite show when you hear it. The TV may be loud but your upbringing and profession won’t ever let you just breeze over things or ignore small sounds. Especially sounds like a baby crying.

    You immediately turn down the volume of the TV, jumping to your feet silently. You cross the room to your bag, grabbing your favored weapons, two daggers with symbols carved all over sharp silver and iron blades. You slip them onto the holsters on your legs. You creep towards your best friend’s room, hesitant to barge in but you can’t leave. Not when you can hear the sound of a screaming baby on the other side of the door. In fact, it seems to be coming from the place where Nick’s kid’s crib was before… But that’s impossible. Babies can’t come back as spirits… Children can but you’ve never heard of an actual ghost  _baby_.

    “...Nick…?” You eventually settle on knocking on the door. You put your forehead against the door, your breath catching as you hear Nick crying. “Nick… Please, open the door. Nick!” You shout the last part as your friend’s sobs escalate to almost screams. You pound on the door, feeling it shake beneath your fists. “Nick! Open the door!” You shout, backing up and running at the door. You body slam it, ignoring the way the breath gets knocked out of you as panic begins to start to choke you. You clutch your stomach as you stare at the door, it had shook so,  _so_  hard when you’d slammed into it but there isn’t even a crack in it as you stare at it.

    “Please… Please…” You hear Nick cry, followed by something just short of a scream. You kick at the door, putting everything you can into trying to break it. You reel backwards as you’re suddenly hit with a dizzy spell, immediately followed by an overwhelming sense of fatigue. You hit the wall behind you and crash to the floor, trying desperately to fight off the oncoming blackness. While the world is slowly fading, you hear Nick slow in his crying. “Okay.. Okay. Yes.” You hear him mutter among sobs. Suddenly, the crying stops and you pass out.

*** Time Skip ***

    When you wake up you’re on the floor in front of Nick’s bedroom door. You climb to your feet, a hand on your head as a headache threatens to make you pass out again. When memories of last night rush back to you your (E/C) eyes widen as you freeze up. You rush into your best friend’s bedroom, seeing that it looks like a bomb went off without blowing up the walls. You run around, looking for Nick before racing back out into the hallway. Panic almost blinds you as you sprint into the living room.

    You freeze where you stand, staring at Nick. Only, it isn’t Nick. There’s no warmth in his eyes when he looks at you and his face looks like he’s about to kill you until recognition flashes across his features. “You. You’re the friend that fills so many of his memories aren’t you. (Y/N), right?” Not-Nick tilts his head to one side, looking you up and down. “Now what do I do with you? I can’t kill you. That would put a damper on Nick and I’s bond and he might start fighting my control. And hunters do have that thing where if you kill one of their kind they’ll hate the “monster” even more. Can’t have Sam push me away even more.” Not-Nick approaches you and with every step he takes you take two back.

    “You could let me go. Obviously I’m no saint who never breaks promises but  _maybe_ I won’t go to the Winchesters.” You say back, your years of hunting with the Winchesters showing. None of you seem to have any self-preservation instincts.

    “Funny. Don’t make me regret my decision.” The man approaches again, and you swear as you feel the wall hit your back.

    “What decision would that be,  _Nick_?” You ask, spitting the last word out like it’s poison as you desperately looking around for an escape route.  
  
    “Well I can’t kill you and I certainly can’t let you just  _leave_. I think I’ll just take you with me.” You pause, the few seconds allowing you to be pinned up against the wall you had been cornered by. You cuss again as the man pushes two fingers between your eyes, causing the world to start to fade quickly. “By the way, it’s not  _Nick_. It’s Lucifer.”


	5. Gabriel 1, 1/?

**_(Y/N)  = Your Name_ **   
  
**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **   
  
**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **   
  
**_(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color_ **

  
**Imagine being on Gabriel’s team in a prank war against the Winchesters**

  
    This had started out so simply and innocent. All Dean did was wrap a black rubber band around that stupid sprayer part of the sink but of course Gabriel,  _the Trickster_  of  _all_  people, just  _had_  to be the one to use the sink next. The next morning Dean walked out to get something from the Impala and found the sleek black vehicle was  _covered_  in post-it notes. Why Dean decided it was a brilliant idea to start a  _prank war_  in the bunker it became apparent that you needed to choose a side and  _quick_.

    Can you really be blamed for joining the Trickster’s side? Like, can you  _really_? You’ve been looking for an excuse to prank your family and being pranked by  _the_  trickster was definitely  _not_  on your bucket list. You just never thought joining Gabriel’s side would lead to you hiding behind a couch on your stomach while trying not to be hit by flying liquid. Sam or Dean had messed around with the sink and something that is  _not_  water is currently raining down in the room. “Gabriel!”

    “You called?” Said archangel appears next to you behind the couch. You move your arms around dramatically, motioning to the flying whatever ambushing you. “Oh.”

    “Yeah,  _oh_. Help your partner out.” You yelp as some of the liquid almost touches you.

    “On it.” Gabriel smirks before disappearing. Soon enough the liquid suddenly stops flying and disappears from the ground and you hear two very  _high pitched_  screams come from somewhere in the bunker. You start cackling when Gabriel appears in the room again. He puts a hand over your mouth and teleports you out of the room and into the yard next to the Impala just as the Winchesters appear, covered in the muck from the sink.

    “So I have an idea. And we need like a lot of candy.” You start, jumping when bags of candy suddenly appear next to you. You smile slightly before opening the Impala and a few bags of candy. You quickly start spilling the sweets all over the Impala’s floors, seats, and dashboard. Gabriel quickly jumps in to help you and you hear him swear and suddenly disappear. You’re yanked from the Impala and you cuss before rolling backwards. You freeze before you run into Sam’s chest.

    “Oh you little-” Dean starts, advancing on you. Suddenly, Gabriel runs around the bunker’s entrance, a water gun in his hand.

    “Let my people go!” Gabe shouts before spraying the Winchesters with what smells like vinegar and crap. You barely stumble away in time and as you race away you can hear Gabriel cackling and the boys screaming. You quickly go and look for your own water gun.


	6. Sam 1, 1/?

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

_**(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color** _

_**(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color** _

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

 

**Imagine Sam falling in love with you but you’re completely unaware**

 

        (Y/N) never looks over at Sam when he stares at her. He isn’t sure if he wants (him/her/them) to see him staring but he knows he want (Y/N) to just  _notice_  his interest in (him/her/them)! The way (Y/N)’s eyes light up when the (he/she/they) find(s) something of importance melts Sam’s heart and Sam never realized (Y/H/C) was his favorite hair color until (Y/N) stumbled into his life. The younger Winchester forces himself to not show interest in (Y/N) until (he/she/they) show(s) interest in him.

        Sam has never been one to fall so easily for  _anyone_  but somehow (Y/N) caught his attention right after Sam and his brother saved (him/her/them) from the vampire coven. Sam notices a blush here and there when he and (Y/N) talk, but there’s usually some logical excuse for the slightly red face. (Y/N) jogs every morning so (he/she/they) can keep up with Sam and Dean on hunts, and jogging is a good excuse to be a little red. Of course, Dean constantly teases Sam about his crush on (Y/N). “You’re a Winchester, Sam. You shouldn’t have  _crushes_. You aren’t some seventh grader get your shit together and ask the girl out.” Dean constantly says.

        Sam has invited (Y/N) out a few times, mostly for coffee or to dinner at someplace other than a burger joint. However, the younger Winchester brother somehow always reverts back to talking about whatever the group is hunting at the time. Of course, out at a restaurant isn’t the best place to begin planning on how to take out a werewolf, but with (Y/N) Sam has a practically non existent vocal filter. Too many times has the hazel eyed man had to cut himself off right before telling (Y/N) how he really feels. He promised himself he wouldn’t make a real move until (Y/N) showed interest in him.

        And of course, (Y/N) would  _never_  tell Sam how (he/she/they) really fealt. How could someone who looks like some Greek god be interested in someone so… Plain looking? (Y/N) is in no way ugly but (he/she/they) isn’t/aren’t on the same level as  _Sam freakin’ Winchester_. (Y/N) has only been hunting for almost a year now too, so not only do they think of themselves as not good enough for the younger Winchester, but they’re afraid he thinks of (him/her/them) as weak or unable to protect themselves properly. (Y/N) still can’t go hunting against those damned vampires because of the awful memories the fanged hags bring up.

        Sam did invite (Y/N) to dinner tonight, though. The dark haired man seems to be inviting (Y/N) out more and more often. Maybe he’s a  _little_  bit interested somehow…? Even if he’s no, (Y/N) can still hope. I mean, who wouldn’t hope that they could actually end up with someone as perfect as Sam?


	7. Lucifer 1, 2/?

_**(Y/N)  = Your Name** _

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color_ **

 

**Imagine you, a hunter, staying over at your best friend, Nick’s, house only to wake up the next morning and find that Nick isn't Nick, and now he’s kidnapped you**

 

    It’s always dark in your room but light enough to see the shadows shift. The Devil lives up to his reputation as he seems to enjoy scaring the shit out of you constantly. Your hands are bound behind your back constantly by some magic and when Lucifer is close enough your reactions are much slower too. Most of your time is spent in a small room under some stairs, and it was probably originally a closet. The shelves had been taken out at some point and there are two pillows you can lay on if you can somehow manage to move them around with no hands and actually find a comfortable position.

    You have an itch in your side that you  _really_  need to scratch when you hear the door fly off its hinges, but you quickly decide shutting up and pushing yourself into the corner of your itty bitty room is a  _very_  good idea. You can hear the Devil in your best friend’s body stalk past and when he enters some other room in the house you let out the breath you were semi-aware you’d been holding. You hear swears and curses and Lucifer screaming in Enochian in the other room and you wince, biting your tongue as you hear the crashes of things being thrown around the room next to your closet.

    You shove yourself flat against the wall when power suddenly surges through the building and down the street. You can actually  _hear_  the lights fizzle out. When heavy footsteps thunder in your direction you feel your slightly shaky hands start to tremble, the tremors slowly moving up your arms and down your body as the footsteps get closer and closer. The door to your closet it thrown open and your most basic of movements are so slow you can’t do anything but shake as you’re suddenly picked up by the collar and yanked out of your small, cold room. You take note of the spider webs that cover the ceiling and clench your jaw when you’re reminded of the bites, spider bites, that cover your bare arms.

    You’re thrown onto the couch, unable to do anything as Not Nick paces in front of you. You can feel the danger generating off of the vessel and the sides of his face are covered in blisters and peeling skin. His anger is causing his power to begin to destroy his vessel. You wince away when he steps closer and raises his hand as if to use his powers before he frowns and continues pacing. You can only lean back slowly, your trembling making it even more difficult to move. You wince again when Lucifer slowly sits on the couch next to you, glaring directly into your eyes. You almost miss the tears in his eyes as you stare at the blood covering him (mostly one of his arms) with wide eyes.


	8. Gabriel 1, 2/?

_**(Y/N)  = Your Name** _

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color_ **

 

**Imagine being on Gabriel’s team in a prank war against the Winchesters, prank war continued continued**

 

    “This is a new low. We need to come up with something better.” You comment from the couch, focused mostly on the game of Temple run you’re currently playing. You glance up at Gabriel, who’s currently taping an airhorn behind the door to Sam’s room. You already got Dean’s room and you both know the rooms are too far apart for the other Winchester to be warned before he gets scared by the airhorn behind his own door.

    “Yeah, I know but we need to wait until tonight to pull the other prank.” Gabe grumbles, grabbing your arm and teleporting you to the main room. He grabs you a random book to make it look like you two are looking for what you’re hunting when Sam walks past. The taller Winchester raises a brow at the two of you before shrugging and continuing on his merry way. Probably to take a shower. You see Dean walk into the hallway connected to his room and smirk a little at Gabriel. He winks at you with a small smile before going back to his neutral face and turning back to the book.

    “ _Son of a-_ ” You hear Dean screech before Sam’s panicked scream cuts him off. Apparently, they both opened their doors at the same time.

    “ _Gabriel! (Y//N)!”_  The Winchester brothers shout at the same time and you and Gabriel quickly jump to your feet and run out of the room. Gabriel is cackling beside you and you look behind you, swearing as you see the taller men catching up to  you. You take a quick right then run straight towards the Winchesters, hitting Dean in a pressure point and knocking him out quickly when you dive past him. You can see Gabriel stop running and snap his fingers from the corner of your eye, and you only have a two second warning before Sam starts to fall. You run under the giant, holding him up with shaky arms and you glare at Gabe.

    “Teleport them to the main room.” You order and Gabriel complies with a raised eyebrow. The next morning, the Winchesters wake up duct taped to the ceiling and a wall.


	9. Sam 1, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam falling in love with you but you’re completely unaware, continued**

 

    The place Sam takes (Y/N) leaves (him/her/them) speechless. The outside of the restaurant reminds (Y/N) of a palace, the white color of the walls recently repainted and the columns by the doorway making elegant arches near the roof. (Y/N) now understands why Sam asked them to wear something a little nicer. Sam is wearing a tuxedo and (Y/N) feels a little uncomfortable in (his/her/their) more comfortable black jeans, button up shirt, and loose tie. At least (he/she/they) remembered to fix their hair and take a shower before leaving.

    “Reservation for two under Styles.” Sam tells the man and (Y/N) is a little confused before (he/she/they) remember(s) that on this hunt Sam is “Joshua Styles”. The man looks through a book, a very  _large_ book, before nodding and grabbing two menus.

“Right this way, please.” He says before turning and walking away. (Y/N) and Sam follow the man, and (Y/N)’s (Y/E/C) eyes flicker around as (he/she/they) look around the room. (His/her/their) eyes finally settle on Sam’s back, trailing over the muscles that are visible even with the tux on. (Y/N) has seen Sam without a shirt on a few times and (he/she/they)  _swear(s)_  that Sam Winchester is a gift from whoever above that cares about humans. Sam’s abs are  _amazing_.

    (Y/N)’s so lost in thought (he/she/they) almost run into Sam when he suddenly stops. (Y/N)’s face warms as a blush slowly creeps up (his/her/their) neck, but (he/she/they) shove(s) it down, coughing awkwardly and taking a seat at Sam and (his/her/their) table. “We’ll take this one.” Sam says to the waiter, smiling kindly before turning his smile on (Y/N). (Y/N) smiles back somewhat shyly, playing with (his/her/their) tie. “How’ve you been lately?” Sam asks (Y/N), hazel eyes boring into (his/hers/theirs).

“I-I’ve been good…” (Y/N) trails off, (his/her/their) blush returning before (he/her/they) can shove it down.

“That’s good… That’s good.” Sam smiles again, taking note of (Y/N)’s blush. “So… What’s your favorite color?”

“What?”

“Your favorite color. I feel like I don’t know you well enough.” Sam says, still not taking his bright eyes off of (Y/N).

“Oh… My favorite color is (color).”

“Mine’s red.” Sam tells (Y/N).

“I like that one too.” (Y/N) comments, looking at the menu as Sam does the same. Through the rest of the  _date_  the Winchester leads the conversation.


	10. Destiel 1, 1/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine hunting the same thing as the Winchesters and when Castiel appears you, Cas, and Dean realize you’re somehow their _child_**

 

    Dean continuously shifts in his seat, drawing Sam’s attention. The taller Winchester brother looks between him and the (boy/girl) he had been staring at for the last half hour. It doesn’t slip his notice how the (boy/girl) shifts the exact same way at the exact same time and it’s beginning to freak him out. It doesn’t help that the kid even  _looks_  like Dean. She had different aspects completely the same as Dean’s, (his/her) jawline, (his/her) hair that seems to be recently cut. (his/her) eyes are narrowed the same way Dean’s were and they kept flickering around to observe nearly everyone in the room like Dean is. Only, they still haven’t looked at eachother. Sam can only pray harder that Cas can hear him and will get his ass here soon. Sam needs explanations.

    And Cas actually does come, looking quite panicked, actually. The (boy/girl) sits up ramrod straight and whips (his/her) head around to stare at Castiel and, finally, Dean. The older Winchester nearly jumps out of his seat as he notices the dark haired angel sitting at the table suddenly. Dean notices the (boy/girl) staring at him and Cas, registering the warmth he’s been feeling in his chest escalate to an almost burning feeling. Cas stands up and grabs the (boy/girl)’s arm and Dean’s arm before the two and all the belonging they bought with them disappear. Sam looks around wildly, eyes narrowing as nobody even shifts.

 

***

 

    (Y/N) felt that (his/her/their) dad was close but they couldn’t just pass it off as another oddity, but then the other one arrived. That’s when (Y/N) couldn’t deny that (his/her/their)  _dads_  were less than a few feet away. (He/she/they) barely had time to grab their bag before (his/her/their) arm was grabbed and suddenly (he/she/they) wasn’t/weren’t in the diner anymore researching the vampire coven in the town. (Y/N) looks around with wide (Y/E/C) eyes, wrenching their arm out of a man who could only be one of (his/her/their) fathers’ hold. (Y/N) scrambles back quite a few paces, eyes narrowing as (he/she/they) look(s) at the two men before (him/her/them).

    “Cas what the hell?!” The taller one shouts, seemingly stuck between stalking towards the dark haired one and trying to comfort (Y/N) for reasons unknown to him. It never really occurred to (Y/N) that (his/her/their) dads might not have known about (him/her/them).

    “... _dads_ …?” (Y/N) sort of whispers, shrinking back at (he/she/they) see(s) the physical bodies of (her/his/their) parents instead of the taller one’s soul and the other’s grace.

    “ _What?_ ” The taller one’s voice takes on an intimidating tone. “ _You have so much explaining to do Castiel_.” He advances on the angle.

    “When I raised you from hell a part of my grace and some of your soul combined to form a… child. I thought (he/she/they) would’ve died by now. The question is, what do we do with (him/her/them) now that we found (him/her/them).”

    “ _What?_ ” Your voice and the taller man’s voice cross over, shocked tones matching.


	11. Sam 1, 3/?

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **   
  


 

**Imagine Sam falling in love with you but you’re finally catching on after you get injured on a hunt, barely surviving the wounds**

 

  
    “You’re so stupid oh my god (Y/N).” Sam whispers, tears beginning to fill his eyes as he runs to the Impala.

    “(Y/N)? Shit….” Dean doesn’t say anything else as (Y/N) is placed on the back seats, Sam quickly joining (her/him/them.)

    “C’mon… C’mon… C’mon… Dean! Drive faster!” Sam shouts, feeling around (Y/N)’s neck as he searches for a pulse. (Y/N)’s usually healthy (Y/S/C) skin is too many shades lighter for Sam not to worry about (him/her/them) bleeding out in the back seat of Dean’s car.

    “I’m hurrying Sam, dammit. Calm down, panicking isn’t gonna help you or her.” Dean growls, the Impala’s tires squealing in protest as he sharply takes a turn and flies down another street. Sam refuses to let any of the tears gathering in his hazel eyes fall as he clutches (Y/N) to his chest, just on the verge of breaking down while he rocks back and forth.

    “PleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePlease….” Sam whispers, holding (Y/N) as close as he can.

    “Is she still breathing?” Dean asks, sounding like he got punched in the gut as he flies around another corner.

    “Yeah… Yeah I think so.” Sam’s voice is muffled, his hand going over his mouth to stop a sob before it escapes. Even if (he’s/she’s/they’re) breathing now, Sam knows it won’t be long until (Y/N) stops breathing all together. “Please… Please (Y/N)... I love you… I love you.” Sam repeats the last part, realizing it himself and breaking down when he realizes that (Y/N) might die never hearing him say it.

***

    “Dude you’ve been at (his/her/their) side for almost a week now. (He’s/She’s/They’re) okay. (He’s/She’s/They’re) gonna wake up when they’re ready.” Dean tells Sam, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame of (Y/N)’s room.

    “I agree, Sam.” Castiel’s deep voice echoes around the room, and Dean jumps away from the angel that appeared no more than three inches away from him. Dean didn’t feel like now was a good time to yell at him about personal space. “(Y/N) will recover and wake up in at least three days. (He/She/They) won’t appreciate waking up only to find you starved, dehydrated, and lacking sleep. Sam sighs, dropping his head into his hands. The bags under his eyes grow with each hour of sleep he doesn’t get and Castiel’s words hit home

    “Alright… I love you (Y/N).” Sam says, like he has been for the last week. Castiel is the only one who notices the upwards curve of (Y/N)’s lips when the boys leave the room.


	12. Megstiel 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

  
  
  
**Imagine Cas and Meg trying to pick out Christmas gifts for each other**   
  


 

    “What do angels even do in their freetime? I mean Cas probably spent most of his time getting that stick out of his ass, but what does he do now?” Meg doesn’t really know why she called Dean Winchester for something like this. The man hates her, but she  _really_  needs to get something for Castiel for Christmas. Both of them have become fond of that specific human holiday.

    “I don’t know. How many times do I have to repeat that?” Dean’s words are clipped and the hunter sounds like he’s almost growling. He hates Meg with a passion but as long as Castiel and her are dating he can’t gank her ass. “Why did you even call me? Why would I know?”

    “He was your boyfriend first.” Meg says offhandedly, smirking when she hears the taller man splutter out blurred words.

    “You know what. Fuck yourself. Goodbye.” Dean says before promptly hanging up on the demon. Said demon frowns, narrowing her eyes a bit as she continues wandering around the mall. She’s thought of getting her angel a rubix cube or something but, knowing him, he’d probably smite it before figuring out how to solve it. As the dark haired woman walks past a clothing store she freezes, backing up a few paces.

    “Perfect.” She says to herself before entering the store, grabbing the dark grey trench coat and a few blue and purple ties as she passes them on her way to the register.

 

***

 

    Castiel stares at the screen in front of him, scrolling endlessly as his frown worsens. He has  _no idea_  what demons do in their spare time. At least, nothing he wants to help them do. So no knives, no weapons of any sort actually, no spellbooks, no notebooks, and pretty much nothing that can up their powers. The angel sighs loudly, leaning back into his chair as he chooses another category. Meg, Meg, Meg… What non deadly hobby did she enjoy doing? Castiel honest to his father can’t think of  _one. Single. Thing._  The dark haired man breaths heavily through his nose, continuing in his search.

    He’s looking through the clothing section when he remembers how many times Meg has complained about not having anything to change her vessel into when what she’s wearing begins to smell. He quickly scrolls back up, ordering as many things as he thinks necessary. Multiple pairs of jeans, t-shirts, combat boots, tank tops, and two leather jackets quickly make their way onto the shopping list. Cas continues scrolling a little until he smiles and puts a few ties onto the list, figuring his girlfriend look  _great_  in a tie. Maybe just a tie.


	13. Gabriel 1, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine** **being on Gabriel’s team in a prank war against the Winchesters, prank war continued continued**

 

    “Okay go go go.” You whisper, giggling slightly as you race towards the Impala. Gabriel joins you, conjuring up shopping carts when you guys run out. When you finish the Impala is surrounded by shopping carts in five perfect circles, and it’ll take a while to break the circles and move the carts. Gabriel grabs your wrist and you’re back in the bunker, the entire thing empty except for you and Gabriel. Given that it takes the Winchesters almost two hours to shop and it’ll take them about 45 minutes to get to their car and then out of the shopping cart circles you and Gabriel have a  _bunch_  of time to prank up the bunker. You start with putting an almost flat airhorn (one of Gabriel’s inventions) under the seat of every toilet except your own and the one in Gabriel’s sort-of room.

    While you’re doing that, Gabriel is putting practically invisible plastic wrap on the top, middle, or bottom of almost every door. Of course, you and him both know where it’s placed and how to avoid it. When Gabriel’s done he moves on to the front hallway and the Winchester’s studies. He fills up red solo cups a bit above halfway with water and you quickly replace the Winchester’s toilet papers with duct tape. God you love duct tape. It’s the best friend of any and all prankers. Not so much the ones being pranked. You then go into the kitchen, thankful you and Gabriel already stocked up on jello. You spend the next hour making and putting things into jello, and thanks to Gabriel’s abilities nothing will short circuit (Sam’s laptop surely won’t, you aren’t sure about Dean’s iPad, though) and the jello was made much quicker.

    Gabriel fills other rooms with a bunch of balls and foam objects like those used when small children try gymnastics and jump into that giant foam pit. While he does that you change around the keys on Dean’s computer’s keyboard. Luckily, the older Winchester doesn’t write or have a reason to know how to write without looking at the keys so he won’t notice until it’s too late. When you and Gabe are done you move everything untouched four inches to the left, knowing the Winchesters won’t pick up on that even as they run into everything. When you two are done, you sit down on the couch and watch TV, waiting for the Winchester brothers to burst into the bunker only to fall and get soaked in water.


	14. Sabriel 1

**Imagine Sam and Gabriel deciding to finally get a dog together**

 

    “I am not, under any circumstances, getting the fuzz ball from hell.” Gabriel’s voice echoes through the large room, causing almost every dog to look up from where they lay.

    “Oh c’mon… Lookit him he  _loves_  you-”

    “ _Away you demon!_ ” Gabriel yelps, jumping backwards dramatically as Sam brings the toy poodle puppy closer to his face.

    “How can you  _resist_  this? It’s the size of my hand!” Sam exclaims. Gabriel rolls his eyes, edging away from the itty bitty puppy.

    “You’re hands are huge. That doesn’t mean anything.” Gabriel states, wandering down the first hall as Sam groans and gives the worker back the tiny puppy.

    “I really hope you don’t mind but we’re gonna take a  _really_  long time.” Sam grumbles, looking over at Gabe as the archangel dramatically places a hand over his heart.

    “I’m  _wounded_ , Samsquatch.” He sighs, placing the back of his arm over his eyes in a show proving just how much of a drama queen the Trickster is.

    “Yeah… Alright this is a really stupid thing of me to do, but you seem like a trustworthy guy. I’m gonna trust you enough to give you this key and push this button when you’ve found a dog you really want. I mean, I just got a lot of things I gotta do and-”

    “Nonono… I get it, don’t worry about it. Go and do your things.” Sam says, taking the key and the button-thing he’s given.

    “Sammy, how about this one?” Gabriel calls as the worker walks away. Sam raises a brow and walks over to the small room Gabriel is standing in front of.

    “Absolutely not.” Sam says the moment he sees the dog. The german shepherd looks like he’s ready to kill the Winchester, his sharp teeth bared dangerously as he growls and barks at him. The dog is cool looking, Sam won’t deny that, but he’s not willing to risk his life for a dog like that. He quite enjoys living, thank you very much.

    “Aw why not? He’s so cool looking!” Gabriel exclaims, waving his arms around. It became apparent to Sam years ago how much Gabriel uses his hands, more like his entire body, while talking.

    “And he’s also ready to kill me. A family dog, Gabe. A family dog.” Sam says, grabbing Gabriel’s arm and pulling him away from the still growling dog. Sam casually strolls down the rows of dogs, smiling as Gabe complains about something along the lines of “damn long legged man not thinking about the ones with tiny legs and bodies”

    “How about that one?”

    “What one?”

    “This one.” Sam says, stopping in front of a room that holds a australian shepherd puppy. He sees a smile growing on Gabe’s face and decides now is the best time to push the small button in his pocket.

 

***

 

    “Wah!” Sam hears before Gabe is suddenly on the floor instead of the bed. The Winchester sits up quickly, looking around wildly for any sign of danger. All he sees is a pair of blue and brown eyes staring into his, a small black nose under those and a happy puppy smile under that.

    “Did you scare Gabe?” Sam asks, on the verge of cracking up.

    “Laugh it up, Samsquatch.” Gabe groans from his side of the bed, and Sam can  _hear_  his scowl. The puppy, who Gabriel named Brooklyn, tilts her head to one side, one of her ears perking up before she yips happily and jumps to Gabe’s side of the bed. Sam see’s Brooklyn jump and Gabriel let out an unneeded groan and that’s when he cracks up. “Ewewew not the face… Not the face!” Gabriel shouts, but he’s laughing a little bit too. Sam’s laughing just keeps getting worse. Gabriel’s upper body appears on his side of the short bed. He’s glaring at Sam, the wriggling puppy against his chest as she tries to lick his face again.

    “Oh-oh my go-god-d-d-d!” Sam cackles, not even trying to stop laughing. Suddenly, Gabriel tosses Brooklyn onto his chest with a smirked “go get daddy”. “Augh!” Sam suddenly gets a face full of puppy paws as Brooklyn starts kissing his face too. “Brooklyn! Brooklyn stop! Stop!” Sam knows it’s pointless to try to talk to the puppy. He turns over, gently holding onto his puppy. He moves the baby australian shepherd, glaring at Gabriel before pulling him close like he’s a teddy bear and making Brooklyn face him. He chuckles as the puppy starts ‘kissing’ Gabriel again and the Archangel makes a strangled sound before Sam falls asleep like that.


	15. Gabriel 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine having to marry Gabriel so in return he protects you and your family**

 

    “Is… Is there some other-  _any_  other way?” Your mom stutters, clutching your hand as she stands in front of you and your siblings. Your dad is next to her, holding her steady with one arm as he weakly glares at the golden eyed man before your family.

    “Nope.” The man pops the P, taking the sucker out of his mouth for a few seconds to do you. “That’s the deal. One mother, father, son, or daughter forever bound to me and then I’ll keep the scary shit off your asses.” Your siblings flinch at the swears.

    “Wh-who are we-e gonn-gonna give-ve u-up-p?” Your youngest sister whispers, burying her face into your dad’s back.

    “I don’t know, sweetie.” Your mom whispers, her pain obvious in every aspect of her being.

    “I should go. I’m the one who summoned him.” Your dad whispers and your mom grabs his wrist before he steps forwards. You look around, staring at your siblings. You make a small motion with your hand, one you all came up with when the youngest one was old enough to figure out its meaning. They make the motion back with shaky hands and with your final “I love you, goodbye”s you step forwards, easily sidestepping your parents to stand only a bit more than two feet in front of Gabriel.

    “Oho, what’s this? Big (brother/sister) steppin’ up to the plate?” Gabriel asks, dragging his eyes over your frame with a raised brow. “About time, I was about to just grab somebody and leave.” Gabriel takes a step forwards and you automatically put one foot behind you before planting it on the ground and biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t move back or run away. Gabriel takes another step forwards casually and you feel your legs start to tremble, and your hands start to full out shake. Suddenly, Gabriel disappears from in front of you but his arm is suddenly thrown over your shoulders. You’re forced to walk forwards and suddenly the woods are replaced by the large hallway of a nice apartment complex.

    “Really?” You ask, raising a brow. You expected more out of the Trickster.

    “Don’t judge. The rooms are huge and the rent is tiny compared to other places. I don’t really want to spend all my time conjuring up money.” He doesn’t even look at you, his eyes focused solely in front of him. You think of this as a good thing, a little bit happy that he doesn’t see your shaking hands or your wobbling legs or your teary eyes. You’re just happy he isn’t looking at   _you_. You try as hard as you can to resist the urge to tear away from the Trickster and run. It probably wouldn’t help, anyways. He has powers that allow him to teleport, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could just track you down. And besides, you wouldn’t have anywhere else to go even if you did run. Oh god, what if he can read minds?!

    “Oh, I can.” Gabriel says before opening a door to the best apartment you’ve seen in your entire life.


	16. Samifer (sorta) 1, 1/?

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

  
  
  
**Imagine being Lucifer’s soulmate, automatically making you Sam’s soulmate, too**

  
  
        “You know I’d never hurt you Sam. There are other perks to saying yes. For example, you get a second soulmate. I mean, technically you already  _have_  another soulmate but saying yes would make it  _official_  official. As in the remaining hurt in your soul will leave. Isn’t that all you want? For the ache to go away?” The archangel possessing Nick’s body is sitting on the edge of Sam’s dream bed again, not allowing him to feel rested. Well, that’s a lie. Sam always feels rested when he wakes up from these night time visits from the Devil, but he refuses to think of Lucifer as anything but a blood thirsty monster. “Ouch, that hurts, Sam.” He sounds so  _sincere_  when he says that, causing Sam to scowl and look away.

    “What  _soulmate_?” Sam spits out the word like it’s toxic, and his hazel eyes bore dangerously into Lucifer’s cold blue ones.

    “Oh, (he’s/she’s/they’re) amazing. Quite perfect for being a human. Gorgeous and as fascinating as you. Very breathtaking for being such a flawed creature.” The ginger/blonde man stands, pacing around the room but seeming to never take his eyes off Sam. The younger Winchester brother makes sure his dream-self is clothed before he hesitantly leaves the bed silently. He doesn’t need to try any of the windows or doors to know they’re locked so he decides to stand on the opposite side of the room.

    “Huh, that’s ironic. The one species you despise and your soulmate it one of them.” Sam watches the archangel closely, not trusting him.

    “Oh, yes it’s  _quite_  ironic, actually. Surely another way of showing just how much  _Father_ ,” it’s his turn to spit out an acidic word, “wanted us to love you creatures more than ourselves. It wouldn’t surprise me if most of the angels have human mates. Jess was your soulmate, as you can probably guess, but because you’re my vessel you have another chance. The chance to ease the pain that your soul won’t stop screaming unless you take the chance. (His/her/their) name is (Y/N).”

    “Ah…” The word is quiet as the pain acts up as Jess’s name is spoken out loud. Sam moves around the room as Lucifer walks to the middle of it, conjuring up the illusion of a (man/woman/other). Sam won’t deny, he thinks (Y/H/C) is his favorite hair color and the ways the (man/woman/other)’s eyes sparkle as they smile widely draws the giant in. As he stares at the (man/woman/other) some of the pain in his heart and soul. But the mirage disappears and the suffering returns. The taller man grimaces, not liking the sudden sympathetic look he’s getting from the damned  _Devil_.

    “She could be yours. I’ll even let you two meet and fall in love before I jump in. But I’ll only get her if you become my vessel once you two love each other.” Sam’s pain is becoming almost excruciating as his soul realizes it has a second chance.

    “Okay. Okay, yes, fine whatever.” Sam says, certain he’ll never love somebody like he did Jess. Lucifer smirks and the world fades to black as Sam starts waking up.


	17. Sam 1, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam falling in love with you but you’re finally catching on**

 

    (Y/N) loves Sam but holy  _shit_  that man gets overprotective and clingy fast. (Y/N) looks up from (his/her/their) book, raising a brow as (he/she/they) see(s) Sam’s hazel eyes focusing on (him/her/them) once again. (Y/N)  rolls (his/her/their) eyes, turning back to the book (he’s/she’s/they’re) reading. The (man/woman/other) shifts around, uncomfortable with Sam’s heavy stare trained on (him/her/them).

    “Can I help you?” (Y/N) finally asks, (Y/E/C) eyes snapping up to bore into Sam’s slightly narrowed ones.

    “What?” Sam asks, seemingly slightly confused.

    “I’m not some painting in an art museum, so why are you staring at me like I hold the answers life?” (Y/N) snaps, shifting around again as the bandages wrapped around (his/her/their) stomach tighten a little. Sam’s eyebrows draw together as he forces his gaze to the TV. (Y/N) goes back to what (he’s/she’s/they’re) reading again, tensing up and letting out an exasperated sound as (he/she/they) feel(s) Sam watching (him/her/them) again.

    “Are your bandages hurting you?” Sam asks, noticing (Y/N)’s shifting. The (man/woman/other) waits a few minutes before shrugging, still trying to focus on (his/her/their) book. “I could help you with putting on new ones. I know that you don’t like looking at your own injuries.” Sam suggests and (Y/N) hesitates as (he/she/they) think(s) about it. Slowly, very slowly, (Y/N) nods, (Y/E/C) eyes following the Winchester’s every move as he approaches with a large roll of ACE wrap, gauze, rubbing alcohol, and tape. A little pin sticks out of Sam’s mouth as he lifts (Y/N)’s shirt just enough so he can see the ACE wrap over the gauze. Sam narrows his eyes, carefully taking off the wrap that’s covered in holes.

    He then tears the tape that holds the gauze over the large slashes across (Y/N)’s stomach. The (man/woman/other) gasps in shock as the cold air hits (his/her/their) wounds. The large cuts are still slightly opened and showing sign of possible infection. Sam winces before giving (Y/N) a sympathetic looks before dumping the rubbing alcohol on the wounds. (Y/N) lets out a pained sound, closing (his/her/their) eyes quickly and clenching (his/her/their) jaw tightly.

    “Sorry.” Sam mumbles, sounding sincere. The (Y/H/C) haired (man/woman/other) nods in a sort of understanding way. Sam quickly wipes off the excess alcohol with a rag, slowly putting gauze back over the injured stomach as a few tears escape (Y/N)’s tightly shut eyes. He tapes the gauze in place, quickly wrapping the ACE wrap around (Y/N)’s stomach but taking into account the way they had been way too tight previously. Sam places a kiss on (Y/N)’s somewhat sweaty forehead before he retreats back to his chair.


	18. Gabriel 1, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine** **being on Gabriel’s team in a prank war against the Winchesters, prank war continued continued**

 

    Sam and Dean are still running into furniture, and the brothers are much more cautious with basically everything in the bunker. The two of them somehow decided it was a brilliant idea to have them both leave the bunker to go shopping and Gabriel had just snapped the shopping cart circles around the Impala into existence. So, once again, you two have the entire bunker to yourselves and millions of horrible ideas again. Gabriel decided to start putting things into jello again and fill almost half the house with cups of water again so you set off to do your own thing. First, you grabbed Dean’s favorite junk food, Oreos, and scraped out the cream between the cookies. You put the cream into a bag because you know that Gabriel is practically addicted to that stuff.

    You fill the cookies back up, but this time with the worst tasting mint toothpaste you could find in that small store near the bunker. You put everything back, sealing the bag back up with the thing Gabriel had popped into existence about five minutes ago. You place the bag back exactly where you found it before leaving the room, making sure to leave the door open just the right amount. Next, you go to the Winchesters’ bathrooms, taking grabbing their toilet paper from the cabinets, throwing it into the bag labeled “Your Stuff” and leaving only a toilet paper roll in each bathroom that has about three squares and then a long piece of cardboard that says “Enjoy Your Stay”.

    As Gabriel starts filling hallways with water filled cups you paint clear nail polish over the Winchesters’ soap bars, and you’re careful not to spill any extra mayo anywhere as you fill the shampoo bottles with it. Not yours though, obviously. When you walk past Sam’s office you see a crate titled “Electronics” and Gabriel putting cardboard versions of a computer, a keyboard, a mouse, speakers, a phone, and even a desk and chair where the electronics and furniture had been. You don’t really want to know where the desks and chairs went. The crate obviously has Dean’s things in it too.

    “Here.” Gabriel says, tossing you zip ties as he points down the hallway. “There’s a bunch of Febreze bottles in your room. I haven’t water-cupped that room and we’re gonna need stink bombs to keep them at bay when they finally reach us. I’ve also got water guns and vinegar bottles. Go fill those up too.”

    “Uggghhhhhhhhhhhh.” You groan before treading out of the room and going and doing as the archangel ordered. It’s a good thing he told you then because only a half hour later Sam and Dean busted into your room. The boys quickly decided that was a bad decision as they ran screaming from zip tied Febreze bottles and vinegar guns.


	19. Gabriel 3

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _  
  


**Imagine Gabriel walking in on you screaming at a horror movie jumpscare**

  
  
    “Oh m _y goD!_ ” You scream, covering your face with your hands as you jump horribly. You hear the door creak open and you glance through your fingers at the TV as Gabriel jumps over the couch and takes his sucker out of his mouth. You can smell butterscotch and you would be raising a brow at the archangel right now if you hadn’t just almost  _pissed_  yourself.

    “Hunters. What have you guys come to? Jumping at things in movies. It can’t be that-  _oh holy shIT!_ ” Gabriel cuts himself off as he’s almost immediately proved wrong as another jumpscare and gory scene is shown on screen.

    “ _Do you understand now?_ ” You question, breathing heavily as you recover from the one that made you shriek like a little girl. Gabriel has a hand over his heart like the damn thing is gonna jump out of his chest and his eyes are so wide you can see flecks of brown in his golden eyes.

    “ _Why_ are you watching this?” The blonde asks, staring at you in shock. His chest is heaving with his heavy breaths and you would be laughing at the Trickster if you didn’t look exactly the same. You stare at the TV as there’s another shot of a torture sessions as the main character races through some woods, screaming his wife and child’s names as the branches and leaves cut at his face.

    “How do you think I manage not to jump when on an actual hunt? Gotta train or, in this case, get all of my terrified screams out so I don’t make some embarrassing noise on a hunt.” You explain, ignoring the raised eyebrow sent in your direction.

    “Okay but why  _this_  movie?” Gabriel questions, one hand still on his heart. Yours is still thundering but it’s not like you’re about to tell the archangel that. You shrug, focusing on the movie intently once again.

    “It’s a great movie, all the actors are hot, the characters are actually using  _common sense_. The plot is amazing and it’s like the scariest movie I could think of. If you watch it you’ll probably agree with me that this is the most amazing horror movie ever.” You say, meaning every word.

    “That’s a pretty big statement.” Gabriel comments and you shush him, ordering him to turn off the lights again. He rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, snapping his fingers and closing the door, shutting off the lights, and soundproofing the room.

    “Decided to watch it?” You ask without looking away from the movie. You see Gabriel nod out of the corner of your eye and you smirk a bit. You can’t smile or you’ll boost the archangels ego too much. It’s already too big.

    “Obviously. And ouch, I’m hurt, (Y/N). My ego is the exact right size.” You jump as the archangel reads your thoughts, sending him a glare. “Also, just looked for it, this is a series. I plan on watching all of them.” Gabriel states and your eyes widen.

    “What? It’s a series? Dude I’m watching them too.” You say, glancing at the Trickster with a raised brow as an arm is placed on the couch behind you. Whatever, you quickly focus on the TV again.

 

***Time Skip***

  
    When you wake up something solid is holding you against the couch and you can hear crappy morning news on somewhere in another room in the bunker. You groan as you try to roll over, making it only halfway before something stops you. You grunt sleepily, frowning when arms wrap around you and pull you closer to a (shorter/tall/same sized person). You shrug it off and fall back asleep. Only later do you realize you decided to  _cuddle_  with an  _archangel_. You nearly choke on your lunch.


	20. Sam/Ruby 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _   
  
  


**Imagine Sam and Ruby meeting in the middle for the first time (sorta, almost)**  
  
     Sam never wanted to go on this hunt. He wanted to sit at home and drink until the pain went away and the memories got blurry. He wanted to sit around and wallow in his own sorry until her drowned but Ruby wouldn’t let him. The damned demon just came waltzing back into his life like she belonged there and decided to make him use the things that very nearly made Dean hate him. Oh god, it still hurts to think of him. He’s down in hell having who knows what happening to him and no demon would even make a deal with him.

    He doesn’t need even more than a minute more of life if he could just  _get his brother back_. Ruby has yelled at him so many times, just like she is now. He’s kicked her out of the Impala more times than he can count but she just keeps showing up where he is. She’s like some rabid dog who’s decided Sam’s their owner. Like he’s done so many times before, Sam is tuning out the demon as she’s screaming about their deal. She wasn’t supposed to arrive that early, and Sam had been drunk off his ass, causing Ruby to slap him and cuss him out in as many languages as she knows. Sam didn’t really expect her to know so many languages. He expected that just as much as he expected her tone to suddenly soften. At the changed tone his attention snapped back to the demon visibly.

    “Sam, I know it hurts. I know you’re angry and I know you’re upset and I know you just want Dean back but he wouldn’t want you to switch places with him.” Ruby says softly, noticing that the younger Winchester brother is actually paying attention to what she was saying.

    “What do you know about Dean? How do you think you have even the  _slightest_  idea of what he would-”

    “Think?” Ruby cuts him off, staring at the much taller man. “Because literally every demon and angel and whatever else is out there  _knows_ that if you hurt Sam Winchester you better go hide in a hole because Dean Winchester will be after your ass ASAP. Just… Trust me on this. He wouldn’t want you moping around. Finding him a way out, maybe. But moping and drowning yourself in cheap beer and whisky? Absolutely not.” Ruby scowls, looking over at the man.

    “Fine, fine, you’re right. Whatever.” Sam scowls, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at Ruby’s smug expression.


	21. Samifer 2

**Imagine Lucifer comforting Sam after a nightmare**

  
  
    “Dean!” Sam screams as he shoots upright, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. His heart is thundering and the archangel in the room watches him from the other side of the room as the Winchester looks over his surroundings, watery eyes focusing on  _the_  fallen angel. As the younger Winchester scoots back as far as he can on the bed his breathing becomes even more ragged. It doesn’t help much when Lucifer steps away from the wall he’s leaning against and begins walking closer. The ginger/blonde man stops every few paces whenever it sounds like the Winchester’s heart is going to burst.

    “Calm down, Sam. I’m not here to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.” The archangel tells Sam, still approaching him but with his hands held in an ‘I surrender’ position. Sam is still shaking and making small noises. Obviously, this nightmare was a lot worse than most. Otherwise the Winchester would’ve already yelled at or try to attack the archangel. Said archangel is now at the Winchester’s bedside, looking hesitant to do anything.

    “Go… Go away.” Sam stutters, wincing away from the other man.

    “Move over.” Lucifer orders.

    “What?”

    “I said move over.” The archangel repeats, shoving at the Winchester until Sam does as he says and moves to the entire other side of the bed. Lucifer moves in next to him, getting under the covers and spreading his arms. “C’mere.”

    “Huh?” Sam’s eyes are so wide Lucifer can count all the colors in them.

    “I said c’mere. Right here.” Lucifer pats his chest and Sam looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi truck. The Winchester slowly moves closer, up until the archangel’s patience disappears and he grabs Sam, pulling him into his arms and holding him close until he starts to calm down.

    “Relax, no harm will come to your brother or you. I promise. Now sleep, I’ll keep you safe with me and I will place a shield around Dean.” With that, Sam slowly drifts off, his still hammering heart betraying his uncertain feelings mixed with intense distrust.


	22. Winchester Brothers

**_(Y/N) = Your Name [ (Y/F/N)=Your First Name, (Y/L/N)=Your Last Name ]_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

  
  
**Imagine the Winchester Brothers pulling you out of class because they need you for a hunt**

  
  
    “(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), please go down to the office and take your things. Your dad and uncle are here to pick you up for your vacation.” Your teacher says from their desk, hanging up the phone on the wall next to the whiteboard. You raise a brow before realizing that the Winchesters probably need you for a hunt. That realization kicks you into gear and you grab your things and leave the room, jogging to your locker. You dump your things into said locker, grabbing your backpack and jogging down to the office. As you expected, Sam and Dean are there waiting for you. Dean is flirting with one of the secretaries and Sam just looks uncomfortable as the school nurse tries to flirt with him.

  “Hey, guys.” You greet and Sam coughs loudly, excusing himself out of his ‘conversation’ and walking towards you.

 “I’ll hold your bag for you.” He offers and you smile at him a bit. You let him take your backpack and he slings it across his shoulder, turning to his phone and texting you. You raise a brow before pulling out your own phone and reading the message.

**How's the timing?**  Sam asks, and you see him raise a brow at you.

**Perfect. Was about to have a science test. You just saved my ass** You message back, smirking at Sam’s frown. Dean pulls his phone out and reads the messages. You almost forgot this chat is a group chat. Dean winks at you before signing the sheet the secretary he was flirting with hands him. You don’t miss the post it note on it that the tall man wrote his number on. You roll your (Y/E/C) eyes and look back down at your phone.

**Won’t that piss some people off?**  Sam asks, glancing up at you.

**Dean _is_  technically my dad. I think he’ll understand** You respond and Dean checks his phone. You can see him roll his eyes but he nods, and you know he’s not gonna, like, murder you if you get a D in science. You’re getting pretty good grades in almost every other class. Except for history. You have this thick fucking notebook that has drawings and diagrams and tabs and papers glued into it and you’re constantly losing the stupid papers that you’re supposed to glue into the notebook. What you have to do in that damned class should be considered some college level shit.

**Yeah Ill get it but I don’t think I’ll be very happy**  Dean says.

**God you peasant put an apostrophe. That fucks with my eyes. And it’s not my fault demons and stuff keep getting more and more ballsy and you keep needing my help**  You text. You can  _feel_  Dean roll his eyes and Sam laughs a little.

**Whatever**  Dean says, and you and Sam follow him out of the school.


	23. Dean 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

  
  
**Imagine your mom calls Dean Winchester, your biological father, to come and get you because she has some illness that doesn’t allow her to care for you like she needs too, and you have Dean’s freckles**

  
  
    “What do you have?” Dean finally asks your mom, and you can pretty much taste the tenseness that hangs in the air.

    “I’m not exactly sure yet but the doctors told me I’d need to put (Y/N) into foster care or let (his/her) father take custody over (him/her).” You hate it when she talks about you like you aren’t in a room. What if you  _wanted_  to go into foster care? Well, you  _don’t_  want to go into foster care but the point is your mom never  _asked_  if you wanted to go with your biological father. One of your friend’s parents would’ve adopted you if you needed to be, anyways. Now all the tall man near you has to do is sign the stack of papers on the table between the two couches in the living room and you’d be stuck with him. Or he’d be stuck with you.

    “Ah… I’m not sure if (Y/N) living with me is the safest idea, (your mom’s name/some woman’s name if you have gay dads?). I have a dangerous job and I move around a lot.” You perk up at that, the natural instincts in you that crave adventure and new things acting up. Your mom always said you’re a lot like your dad.

    “How dangerous can it be?”

    “Very. I’ve almost died quite a few times, actually. But it’s eventually up to (Y/N).” Your eyes widen a bit as the blonde man near you turns to face you and bright green eyes bore into your (Y/E/C) eyes. You shrink back a bit, not really expecting to have been included in this conversation at all.

    “Uhh.” You mutter, looking between your parents. Dean looks uncertain, and your mom is looking expectant. You bite the inside of your cheek, a bad habit that your mom has too. “I… I think I want to go… With you…?” You trail off and the statement sounds like a question as you measure the pros and cons in your head. “Yeah. Yeah I want to go with you.” You state, looking into green eyes so your biological father knows you’re being serious. The man sighs before hesitantly picking up the pen next to the papers. He reads through everything and it takes him about two hours to read and sign everything. In that time you manage to pack all your belongings, which is all able to be held in four bags, and stack the bags by the door.

    “You have my freckles.” You hear Dean’s deep voice break the silence. You look up from your charging phone to see Dean staring at you. You look at his face intently, picking out the small details.

    “I think I have your jawline, too.” You state before Dean nods thoughtfully and he stands up, pushing the papers to your mom.

    “They’re all signed. The car is outside, the Impala.” Dean says, turning to you on the last part. You nod and pull your weakening mom into your arms, trying to resist the urge to cry as you say goodbye to your mom.


	24. Winchester Brothers 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

  
**Imagine Dean yelling at you, Sam, and Dean as you three have a karaoke party so you start singing “Shut Up and Dance (With Me)”**

  
  
    “I swear to  _god_  if you guys don’t shut up within the next minute I’m kicking  _all_  of your asses!” Dean shouts from the kitchen, taking a swig from his beer. You cackle as you turn on your next song choice. Castiel just finished with an actually (very) amazing performance of Bad Romance by Lady Gaga. Sam had sung Single Ladies before him and you don’t know  _what_  the taller Winchester has been drinking but it’s obviously been a lot of whatever it was because he even did the dance while singing the song. You don’t think you’ve ever laughed harder in your life.

    “ _We were the victims of the night_ ,” You start singing, and you see Dean freeze out of the corner of your eye. “ _The chemical, physical, kryptonite. Helpless to the bass, and the fading light,_ ” Dean is getting out of his chair and Sam is cackling like he’s finally gone mad.

    “(Y/N)!” Dean shouts threateningly and Cas tosses you the microphone he was using.

    “ _Oh we were bound to get together, bound to get together!_ ”

    “ **(Y/N)**!” Dean repeats more forcefully.

    “ _She took my arm, I don’t know how it happened. We took the floor, and she saaaiiiiddd~_ ”

    “Get over here!” Dean shouts, approaching the living room menacingly and you jump to your feet.

    “ _Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said you’re holding back, she said_ _shut up and dance with me_ _,_ ” you jump onto a chair as Dean tries to grab your leg, “ _this woman is my destiny. She said ooohhh~ **Shut up and dance with me**!_ ” You jump onto the couch and Sam grabs Dean’s ankle when he runs past the place where he’s laughing so hard he’s crying on the ground.

    “(Y/N) get over here you little-”

    “ _A backless dress, and some beat up sneaks. My discothèque, Juliet teenage dream. I felt it in my chest as she looked at me. I knew we were bound to be together, bound to be together!_ ” You jump over Dean as he almost faceplants and he twists, trying to grab your leg to bring you down with him.

    “ _She took my arm, I don't know how it happened. We took the floor and she said~”_  Now you’re running through the living room with Dean on your heels as he tries to get the microphone away from you. “ _Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said you’re holding back, she said_ ** _shut up and dance with me_ _!_** ”

    “Shut up ‘cause I’m not dancing!” Dean shouts and you’re keeping his hands away from the mic by leaning against the couch and planting your foot on his chest, not allowing him to move any closer. Sam is crying, Castiel is right there with him since he finally developed a sense of humor, and Dean has murder in his eyes.

    “Cas!” You shout, tossing him the microphone. His eyes get wide and he catches it before running out of the room.

    “Dammit, Cas!” Dean shouts getting off of you and chasing after him as he continues the song. “I’ll deal with you two later.” He threatens before he leaves the room in a sprint.


	25. Lucifer 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

 

  
**Imagine the reader, who happens to be a demon, is in love with Lucifer but they try to hide it by acting like they hate him**

  
  
    “Stupid freaking good for nothing-” You mutter angrily, twisting your hand and killing the angel in front of you. You take your knife out of their chest with a grimace, trying to ignore the pain shooting up your side from where the angel had stabbed you. The look of surprise that appeared on its’ face when you didn’t smoke out or explode was priceless. You look down at the body as it falls, covering your eyes with one arm and turning around as the angel’s body starts to glow. You don’t have a natural hate of angels, you really don’t, but you constantly feel the need to do your job perfectly, and letting any of the angels go free after seeing one wouldn’t help with that.

    Why do you feel the need to do your job perfectly? For reasons you refuse to admit verbally or even think about in case  _he_ is tuning in. Your partner, some demon who’s annoyingly unskilled who you haven’t even bothered to learn the name of, appears in front of you, exploding soon afterwards as the angel explodes with light. You scowl at the idiot and feel a burning on your back. You cuss as the angel wing marks burn onto your skin, but it isn’t the first time this has happened. You walk over to the closest mirror in the abandoned church, scowling at how obvious these wing scars are. It goes up to your jawline, the last feather tip appearing just below your ear. You lift up your ruined shirt, seeing the mark runs down your entire side and down your leg. You cuss and snap into new clothes, consisting of a leather jacket, dark (skinny, if you prefer) jeans, and a red tank top.

    “What the hell, (Y/N)? Not even a warning?” You hear a female voice behind you. You turn slightly, seeing your partner in a new vessel. “I get you’re a knight of hell but try not to act like you’re so far above me.” Your partner mutters angrily. The new vessel is a somewhat small asian woman, somewhere in her late teens or early twenties, with blue eyes and sharp features. You haven’t bothered snapping your eyes out of the entirely black state for a while now, feeling no need to. You’re a demon, why would you want to hide that? Besides, you’re a knight of hell, who cares who sees it? Not you. “And the boss wants to have you report to him for a mission.”

    “Crowley?” You ask in disgust. You don’t have any reason to be personally against the demon, and he’s not  _that_  bad of a leader, but the small man is more like a the General of hell than the King. You’re certain you would be able to lead hell better than he currently is. It doesn’t help his case how often he would visit the Winchesters before Lucifer rose back up and sank into the seat of absolute power. Hell  _is_  his domain, though, so it didn’t come as a surprise to anybody when Crowley was sent down a few notches as Lucifer took over again. Besides, the archangel is too powerful for anybody to overthrow or disagree with publicly. Everybody in hell has seen what happens to demons who do that.

    “No.  _The_  boss.” Your partner says and you stiffen up. You turn to fully face your partner.

    “You spoke with  _him_?” You refuse to say his name. Most demons do.

    “Absolutely not. Crowley told me when I… How do you put it? Respawned.” You kept your human lingo when you became a knight of hell. You didn’t feel the need to drop any terms or phrases. It annoys the hell out of most demons that you kept a  _lot_  of your nerdy and video game related speech patterns. You shove down the heat that begins to crawl up your neck and you put on an annoyed scowl before teleporting to hell’s king’s meeting room.


	26. Cas 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

  
  
**Imagine going on a date with your three year long boyfriend, Cas, and the date ends differently than you expected**

  
  
    You leave the movie theater, leaning against Cas as you laugh. His arm is wrapped around you and he’s smiling as he continues with his story. Your eyes flick around as you get into the car Dean fixed up for Cas. It’s a nice car, sturdy and old and good looking. Your eyes pass along the streets as Castiel drives and you sit up a bit straighter when you see a familiar Impala driving down an opposite street. As soon as you spot it the car turns away, so you weren’t able to see who’s driving the car. Castiel stops at a hot dog stand and he orders his hot dog, and you quickly order yours afterwards. You split this bill, but it takes some convincing. You know that Cas won’t let you split the bill for dinner tonight. You have an entire day that can count as a date with Cas today, and you two plan on making the most of it. Usually you two can’t even hug for more than five seconds. Dean usually uncomfortably gets between you two and shoves you apart.

    You two sit on the hood of Cas’ somewhat beat up car, eating your hot dogs at your own paces as Cas tells stories of some of the odd missions he went on while he was still in heaven's ranks. You’re ordering your second hot dog when you see the Impala again. Your order trails off and the cashier has to wave her hand in front of your face to gain your attention again. “Oh, sorry.” You mutter before continuing your order. Cas drove off when you started your order and he appears again when you walk towards the parking lot with your bag. You had ordered Cas two more hot dogs when you ordered your two others and you also grabbed salads, fries, sundaes, and a few other dessert things.

    “Hop in.” Cas smiles, leaning over and opening your door. You spot the Impala  _again_  when you get into the car. You frown a bit but a smile quickly replaces it when Cas cracks a joke, leaving you almost in tears.

    “Oh, god Cas. Where did you go when I was ordering?” You ask and Cas glances at you. His blue eyes are light and sparkling with happiness when they connect with your (Y/E/C) pair.

    “I went to a nearby store. You’ll understand why in a few moments.” Cas tells you, taking another turn and parking in an open space near the entrance to the park he chose. You hum a small “okay” and get out of the car, following Cas. A small smile appears on your face as you spot the basket he’s carrying. Cas strolls on next to you, holding your hand and swinging it subconsciously. He chooses the perfect spot. There’s only a small wind that cools you in the hot weather but it’s not strong enough to make it cold. The grass is the most green here and not many people are walking around here. Cas pulls out a blanket from the basket and lays it down, placing plates down on it, putting the basket off to the side, and pulling out cans of Arizona Iced Tea. You see the Impala roll down the street and roll your eyes.

    “I think Sam and Dean want to join us as a double date.” You mutter, completely used to this. You and Cas  _have_  been dating three years now as of today.

    “Yes, I’ve been seeing the Impala everywhere today.” Castiel mumbles back, placing the food you got neatly onto the plates. You see a teenage girl and her friend approaching hesitantly and you smile at them a bit.

    “Uh- Er, hi. Um, we’re so sorry but this just looks so cute and perfect and-and we were wondering if we could get a few pictures?” The girl mumbles and the other is watching you two uncertainly. Cas smiles widely.

    “Sure.” He says, allowing the two girls to move you two around. You look where they politely ask you to when needed, and you hear one of the girls gasp as you’re looking away.

    “(Y/N).” Cas says gently, getting you to uncross your arms and turn around. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as tears start to fill your eyes as you look at your boyfriend. He’s on a knee, his blue eyes full of hope and love and the ring in his hand is more beautiful than anything you’ve seen before. It’s obvious that the angel has some long speech prepared but you’re already nodding.

    “Yes.” You whisper, overflowing with emotions.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gadreel might be a bit OOC

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

  
  
**Imagine Gadreel showing up at the reader, his girl/boyfriend’s, house after his suicide somehow made him a human instead of permanently killing him**

  
  
    “(Y/N)...” A voice croaks outside your door after some heavy knocking. Your head shoots up to stare at the door for all of a second before you’re jumping to your feet and racing to the door. You throw the door open, staring at your boyfriend, Gadreel, as he leans heavily against the door frame. He’s bleeding  from multiple areas and his right arm looks broken, but it’s really him. It’s really Gadreel. And something is wrong. You catch Gadreel as he pitches forward and it’s not as much of a struggle as you expected to drag your boyfriend to the couch and lay him on it gently.

    “Gadreel? Gadreel, can you hear me? Oh god… What happened?” You ask, hands fluttering above the man’s body because you don’t know which wound to  _start_  on. You race to your room and carry your huge first aid kit down. Thank god you’re a doctor, otherwise you fear Gadreel would’ve died.

    “(Y/N)...?” Gadreel sounds dazed and his eyes are glassy as he looks around for you, his non broken arm lifting to reach towards the sound of your voice.

    “I’m here… I’m right here. What hurts the most?” You ask your boyfriend, opening your first aid kit quickly.

    “My… My grace. My grace is gone and my wings are missing and I can’t use my powers and my grace is  _gone_  (Y/N). It’s  _gone_.” Gadreel mutters, in a pained daze. You can see giant wounds in his back where wings would’ve connected with his body and his neck has a huge gash on it that barely missed important veins.

    “Okay, okay Gadreel I get it. I get it.” You mumble gently, cleaning and stitching up the wounds that aren’t too serious. It takes you almost half an hour to fix his neck and it takes you another three hours to fix his back. Everything is gonna scar so badly and oh god what  _happened_?

    “Castiel. Castiel was there and we were in prison but they didn’t  _know_. They were  _blind_  to what Metatron was doing. And- and heaven was closed and we couldn’t get in and I  _brought_  him in and we were put in jail and Metatron was going to win and we would never get in again and. And. And I did the spell I did the spell and oh Father I hope he  _moved_  and then the spell was spoken and the sigil was finished and my blood was everywhere and then there was a light. It was so bright and there was a voice and it was enochian but I wasn’t able to  _understand_. And it hurt and my wings- my wings were ripped away and they were gone and they were missing and my gr-grace. My grace is  _gone_  and my wings are  _gone_  and I feel so many more emotions and I need to refuel and I need to relieve myself and I can’t fly and I can’t smite. I hit the ground and it hurt so bad it was like I fell all over again and I hit the ground and all I could think was (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) so I went to you because I love you and I need you and please don’t leave me. I’m scared (Y/N) I’m so scared because I didn’t know where I was or what was going on and  _(Y/N) please don’t leave me_.” Gadreel is clinging to you as he finishes his explanation and you finish his last fixable wound.

    “Shh… I’m right here. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. Shh… I got you Gadreel. I’m right here.” You mumble to the ex-angel and he begins to relax and then he passes out, but his green eyes had been clear when he was staring at you.


	28. Gabriel 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

  
  
**Imagine you become an unscheduled Prophet of the Lord, and Gabriel is revived by God, wherever the hell he is, to protect you**

  
  
    “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” Your voice is shakey but you keep the hot poker aimed at the tall man who just suddenly appeared in your living room. “Actually, what you are would help me too.” You add, edging around the room towards the bag where you keep all your guns, salt, and blades. The man looks amused, and his bright green eyes flick completely black, causing you to cuss and race for your bag.

    “I’ve seen some stupid ideas, but that nearly takes the cake.” The man’s voice is deep and his dirty blonde hair is somewhat parted to one side. It still resembles a fohawk, somehow.

    “C’mon… It’s not the  _worst_  plan you’ve seen, I’m sure.” You try to stall, looking around wildly. The man throws you across the room and into a mirror. A mirror that shatters and gets a fuckton of glass in your back when you hit it. Ouch. You groan as you sit up again, leaning against your side on a separate wall. You cuss as you pull one of the glass shards from your shoulder. “Ow. Damn, dude, chill. What did I even do this time? What guilty thing or which important demon have I killed most recently? We’re in the US I have the  _right_  to know what I’m being charged for.” You rattle on as you move back, warily watching the man as he approaches. “Oh, shit.” You mutter as you spot the mark on his wrist and recognize the blade in his hand. “You’re a fucking  _knight of hell_?!” You exclaim, all the way backed up now.

    “Damn straight.” The man growls.

    “You don’t seem very straight. Nevermind. But seriously, what the hell did I do?” You question, taking note of the brilliant flash of light your curtain cover that comes from your backyard.

    “You’ve become some unscheduled Prophet of God. I’ve only met two but usually there’s an archangel protecting them. When Crowley got wind there was an unprotected one, well, we couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that.” The man’s tone deepens menacingly and you cuss as you scramble away from him to the other side of the room.

    “Damn, Dean-o. What did you do?” Another man’s voice asks from the  _other_  side of the room. His voice became much softer and more serious with that last bit.

    “Gabriel? I thought you were dead. I  _saw_  your  _body_.” The man, Dean, says. Wait, Dean? As in Dean Winchester? Damn, so much is happening in these, like, three minutes. How are you not dead yet?

    “Daddy dearest felt that (Y/N) should have a guardian. Michael is a dick, Lucifer is out of the question, does he even count as an archangel? I count him, he’s strong enough. Oh, and I don’t even know where Rafeal is. Probably dead. Don’t even talk about the other four. Personalities would probably clash and  _that_  wouldn’t be good. You’ve managed to fuck up bigger than I thought you could while I was gone. I’ll fix that later, surprised Cas hasn’t found a way yet. Does he even know? Probably not. Wow, you’re easy to stall, Dean-o. Later.” With that the shorter man with the golden eyes touches you between the eyes. The world goes dark as you feel an extreme amount of wind hit you soon afterwards.


	29. Lucifer 2, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

  
  
**Imagine the reader, who happens to be a demon, is in love with Lucifer but they try to hide it by acting like they hate him, continued**

  
  
    “Yes, oh glorious master?” You ask, managing to sound more annoyed than humanly possible as you bow. It’s required, and while you’re sarcastic with the King of hell you aren’t really willing to find out if the odd relationship of “I just barely tolerate you” with Lucifer will stop him from incinerating you if you’re truly rude to him. You’ve gotten pretty close a few times. Those instances were when you reminded you can still feel fear.

    “Watch your tone.” The room drops a few degrees and you stiffen, eyes widening in a small show of fear. The archangel’s anger is practically filling the room so you keep quiet and on a knee. It’s a few minutes before you’re certain you’re allowed to stand again, and when you glance into a nearby mirror you see your eyes had snapped back to their original (Y/E/C) during that small period of fear. You angrily snap them back to black, and you keep your gaze on the ground as Lucifer stands up and walks around the table. “You’re going to sit with me through all of my meetings today.” The archangel informs you and your brows furrow in confusion.

    “...What?” You eventually ask, turning so your body faces the King of hell but not allowing your eyes to shift from their focus on the ground.

    “I think I was clear. You will be going to all my meetings with me, starting today. You will not speak unless spoken to, you will not put in your opinion unless it is requested, you will respect anybody and everybody in the room with us each time, and if you fail to do any of these things I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your miserable existence in a cage. Do I make myself clear?” The archangel, who had been circling you, stops in front of you. You beat down the rush of anger and the pang of hurt that comes with it, simply nodding. “You know how to speak.”

    “Yes, I understand.” You just  _barely_  manage not to growl or have your voice tremble. Your eyes still don’t leave the ground as Lucifer steps closer menacingly.

    “Good. Now go change into something more suited for hot weather. And cover that mark. We don’t want any of the visitors understanding just how much power is in the room against them if they decide to attempt assassination or capture. Now!” The ginger/blonde man snaps the last bit and you disappear quickly, appearing back in the single room that you can hardly call your own. Unsurprisingly, it’s much smaller and has worse living conditions than most low life demons. Shows how much the King of hell cares for you...


	30. Balthazar 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader and the Winchesters go to Balthazar for the weapons, but instead they find out about your relationship with the angel**

 

    “So we go in there, we trap him in the holy fire, we get the weapons, and then we leave.” Dean says, glancing back at you to make sure you understand.  _And then I go and get the dumbass out of it_. You add on mentally as you nod. You cross your arms as you lean back against the leather seats of the impala, staring out at the scenery as it races by in a blur of colors.

    “But we still don’t know exactly where the weapons are stashed.” Sam adds from the passenger seat.

    “We never know where anything is  _exactly_.” Dean adds, looking a bit annoyed. You roll your eyes. At least he knows that his plans are usually stupid. You’re just hoping that Balthazar won’t kill any of the boys, accidental or not. Sometimes he forgets how much weaker humans are than angels when hunters try to kill him.  _Usually_  he’s pretty good with not fatally wounding them but sometimes there’s mistakes and he throws a hunter just a  _little_  too far just a  _little_  too hard.

    “Here we are.” Sam mutters as you pull up at a familiar building. You get out of the car and climb the stairs behind the Winchesters, rolling your eyes at their failure of attempting to be stealthy. You follow them, though, keeping much more quiet than they are even though you’re welcome into Balthazar’s houses.

    “No shit, Sherlock.” You mumble as you continue up the stairs. Dean elbows you in the rib and you wince. He kicks open the door and you stroll in behind the brothers calmly.

    “Welcome welcome… Oh, hello Love.” Balthazar greets you and the brothers whirl on you.


	31. Charlie 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

  
  
**Imagine playing hide and seek with Charlie**

  
  
    “(Y/N) I’ve been looking for, like, the last half hour.” Charlie complains, the redhead once again walking past your spot.  
    “Actually, it’s only been five minutes.” You say, seeing Charlie whirl around and stalk back in your direction angrily. Having to wait on hunts in uncomfortable positions you’re having no trouble keeping yourself up under the couch.  
    “Where  _are_  you?” Charlie mumbles, passing you again. You snicker, seeing her feet move as your friend spins in a circle, annoyance practically radiating off of her. You smirk, hearing her footsteps thunder around the base.  
    “What are you doing?” You hear a deep voice act awkwardly. Sam steps further into the room and you can tell he’s staring at Charlie.  
    “So me and (Y/N) are playing hide and seek, right? And I’ve been looking for her  _forever_  and I  _still_  can’t find her.” Charlie grumbles, and you can picture her crossing her arms and stomping her foot. Sam snorts but tries to cover it up with a coughing fit, making you roll your eyes.  
    “Seven minutes.” You call and you hear Sam spin around with Charlie. Five minutes later and your arms are getting tired and Sam called Dean to help him and Charlie. You’re still giving them hints by correcting them on their times and you can hear the desperation in their voices as the time continues passing.  
    “What’da’ya need, Dean-o?” A non familiar voice question, appearing out of nowhere. Did they seriously call in an angel? You got that the Winchesters “have heaven on a leash” but you didn’t think it was actually this true.  
    “We’re playing hide and seek, and we can’t find (Y/N).” Dean grumbles, and you can tell he’s motioning around the room in annoyance.  
    “Ooh. I’m gonna go hide with (him/her/them).” The voice says and suddenly there’s a face right in front of yours.  
    “What the hell?” You ask the man, staring into golden eyes with surprise and no small amount of annoyance.  
    “Wow, way to give away your spot. Good job, by the way.” The man says. Who even is this dude? “Oh, I’m Gabriel.” Oh, god, can he read minds? “You bet your ass I can. Archangel,  _helloooo_ ~” He motions at his face and you roll your eyes.  
    “I’ve been talking for, like, the entire time. Since Charlie started looking for me.” You state and you hear the others groan in annoyance as they continue looking for you.


	32. Winchester Brothers 3

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine you and your sister meeting Sam and Dean and they’re basically the gender swap of both of you (for girls only I guess)**

 

    “Yeah, a beer, the double bacon cheeseburger, a slice of your best pie, and your number.” You wink at the waiter/waitress and watch as he/she blushes with a small smirk. The waiter/waitress stumbles off quickly and you look over to see your sister glaring at you. Her long brown hair, it goes down below her butt, you really want to take a pair of scissors to it, is pulled into a messy bun. Your own hair is just messily combed with your fingers and left in its’ normal style. You stare into your sister’s hazel eyes with your own green ones, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip of your soda. You notice that after a few minutes of an angry stare down that your sister’s eyes slide off to the side and get a bit wide. You roll your eyes as she subtly tries to tell you to look behind you. “What?” You ask in annoyance, hearing someone behind you say the same thing.

    “If you won’t tell me I’ll just turn around and stare.” A deep voice says from behind you as you ignore your sister’s warnings and turn around. Your green eyes stare into another pair of green eyes exactly like yours and you raise an eyebrow, seeing the man do the same thing but with the opposite brow.

    “Damn, it’s like looking into a mirror.” You and the man say at the same, causing more eyebrow raising.

    “At least I know I’d be an attractive man.” You say, running a hand through your hair and letting it fall over your shoulder.

    “Damn, I’m a hot chick. Wanna meet up later?” The man asks and you write your number and a hotel on a napkin.

    “Dean!” The man’s brother, who actually looks a  _lot_  like your sister, what the fuck, yells at the blonde man.

    “(Y/N)!” Your sister exclaims at the same. You wink at both of the men before turning around again when a different person arrives with your food. You note in amusement that Dean ordered the same thing as you and his brother ordered the same thing your sister ordered.


	33. Gabe/Dean/Cas 1

**Imagine Dean needs to see hellhounds again, but the glasses have an unexpected added feature; they allow Dean to see angel wings**

 

    “So just burn these in this, right? There wasn’t some extra step of “sacrifice a virgin” to the directions while I wasn’t looking?” Dean questions, and because he’s squatting he has to look up to glance at the angel and archangel in the room.

    “Correct, Dean-o. Better hurry. Hell’s bitches are gonna be on your ass in about half an hour and you still gotta carve those runes into the blade.” Gabriel says, smirking smugly down at Dean as the green eyed man glares at him briefly.

    “Yeah, it would be pretty fucking helpful if you feathery dicks would carve the runes  _for_  me. They’re against Hell, not Heaven.” Dean grumbles, waving the first lense over the burning holy oil methodically. Cas crosses his arms and raises a brow, his electrical eyes staring into Dean’s back. The hunter may not see it but god  _damn_  he can feel his gaze pretty much burning a hole through hm.

    “We like watching you suffer.” Gabriel comments from where he sits on the counter of the abandoned house. “Nice choice of places to face a hellhound. Good job on the trash littered everywhere on the floor where you can trip over it and fall on your ass.”

    “You know what?”

    “What?”

    “Shut the fuck up.”

    “Dean.”

    “Don’t start with me, Cas. You ain’t helping either…” Dean trails off as he puts the glasses on and looks up to glare at the angel.

    “Dean?” Cas asks, concerned about his sudden silence. Dean is staring at him with wide eyes, green no longer touching any eyelids as he- no, he’s not staring directly at his body or face. The hunter is staring just a bit behind him. He’s staring at-

    “They’re so big.” Dean whispers, one hand reaching out to touch the large, glossy dark blue wings. His hand suddenly wrenches back as if he was electrocuted. The hunter crosses his arms, but it looks more like he’s wrapping his arms around himself. Why is he…? The realization hits Castiel like a train. He doesn’t trust himself with the wings. Or he doesn’t want to soil something so pure. Castiel frowns, moving closer to the hunter and spreading his wings more. Dean backs up but runs into Gabriel’s chest, and the archangel surrounds the hunter with his six gold, bronze, and white wings.

    You go do the markings. I’ll get him used to the wings. Gabriel says to Castiel over a secured bond. The angel nods and heads towards the blade and the hot pen-like device he can use to put the markings on the blade. He almost doesn’t hear Dean’s small whimper as the wings close around him completely.


	34. Dean 3

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

  
**Imagine being an old friend of Sam’s and Dean had a legitimate crush on you that is suddenly reawakened when you turn up to be a hunter and on the same case as the boys**

  
  
    “I’m agent Stark, and I’m here to ask you some questions.” You state, holding up your badge successfully faked perfectly.

    “And I’m agent Johnson and this is agent Banner. We’re with her.” A sort of familiar voice says. Somehow, it managed to get even  deeper. You turn slightly, staring at the man who you had been your friend for 19 years before your parents went different ways in the hunting world.

    “Yes, they’re with me.” You mutter, turning back to the victim and trying to forget about the searing green eyes that had been trying to get you to make eye contact with their owner.

    “Alright, ma’am, do you remember anything strange about last night?” Sam Winchester asks, hazel eyes boring into the wife until they turn on you for a few moments. You stare into his eyes for a few moments, memories flashing through your own (Y/E/C) pair.

    “Strange?” The black haired woman asks, sniffling as she wipes at her eyes.

    “Anything out of the ordinary.” Sam says, staring at the woman again.

    “Well- well everything got really…”

    “Cold?” Sam offers.

    “No, dark. There- there was this smoke. It was black and just really foggy in the house but then I blacked out. And- and when I woke up Harry- Harry was  _dead_.” The woman sobs.

    “Black smoke?” Dean Winchester questions.

    “You probably think I’m crazy.” The woman mutters, rubbing at her watery, bloodshot eyes.

    “We don’t judge until we get all the evidence.” Sam says before closing the small book her had been taking notes in.

    “Did Harry have any enemies? Or anybody who would try to hurt him?” You ask, slightly annoyed that the boys took over her hunt.

    “I don’t know a soul who didn’t hate Harry. He had enemies in the worst places. Please find out who did this.” The wife pleads before the three nod and leave the house.

    “It’s nice to see you again, Sam.” You say, “And you too Dean.” With a wink at the end you walk away and to your car. Too bad you didn't turn around and see Dean blush a little bit.


	35. Dean 3, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

  
  
**Imagine being an old friend of Sam’s and Dean had a legitimate crush on you that is suddenly reawakened when you turn up to be a hunter and on the same case as the boys, continued AGAIN**

  
  
    “So you died, went to hell, had this dude pull you out, found out you were Michael’s vessel and that Sam was  _Lucifer’s_  vessel,  _and_ you started an apocalypse?” You ask for clarification.

    “Don’t forget about the time Sam accepted to be Lucifer’s vessel because the assclown thought he could  _fight his control_.” Gabriel fills in angrily.

    “So you’ve both been to hell.” You deadpan, staring at the Winchesters who are currently shifting uncomfortably under your gaze.

    “Yeah…” Sam mumbles, sounding like a child being scolded for being caught raiding the cookie jar.

    “It’s actually not as hot as I expected.” Dean adds in, making you momentarily glare at the man before becoming curious.

    “Really?” You ask.

    “Yeah. I was, ya know, by or on the rack constantly, but when I was on the rack it was like when it’s nice when there’s no wind but then there’s heavy cold wind and you went out in a tank and shorts because it was nice outside and not windy when you got dressed.” Dean says, and you raise an eyebrow as you see the sincerity in his eyes.

    “Wait,  _really_?”

    “Yeah, I think it changes for every person though. Like, in the room. Whenever it was somebody knew the temperature would change slightly. I couldn’t feel it, but it changed. Sometimes it was as hot as hell is usually described but other times it was really cold. As in, hiking on Everest in shorts and no shirt cold.” Dean describes and you wince with a scowl. You’re not all that surprised, though.

    “Damn, look at those puppy love eyes.” You hear Gabriel say and you snap out of the daze you entered when you started talking to Dean. You turn and scowl at the archangel, glaring as you point at him.

    “ _You_ , sir, are on my shitless. I get the lesson you were trying to teach but c’mon, couldn’t you have just sat Sam down and explained it to him?”

    “Trickster, hello~.” Gabriel takes the sucker out of his mouth and spins it in a lazy circle while pointing at his face. You grimace before turning away. It’s silent in the room for a while. Not the comfortable silence from before, but a  _really awkward_  silence you didn’t know what to do with. Luckily, Dean breaks it before you even try.

    “So… Which fast food joint are we going to for dinner?”


	36. Castiel 3

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine you're a demon who fled from hell and Castiel stumbles upon you as you're watching the Angels fall from heaven, listening to "It's Raining Men"**

 

    “Shouldn’t you be doing that too?” You ask the man with the angel blade, motioning to the falling angels that looks like meteors.

    “No.” The dark haired man mutters, watching you wearily as you look at him with purely black eyes. “How are you able to tell I am an angel?”

    “Besides the blade?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “You got that stick-up-the-ass personality and you aren’t using contractions.” You say. You look at the man again, taking note of the sorrow in his eyes. Eyes that are the color of the sky that angels are falling from in flames of orange and white and even blue and purple.

    “I am… No longer an angel.” The man admits and you turn down “It’s Raining Men”.

    “Nah, you’re an angel.” You say and, seeing the man start to protest, you continue, “I can see it in you. I don’t know what happened to your grace, but I’m guessing it’s linked to the angels falling?” The man nods solemnly. “And you’re regretful of that.” The man nods again. “And, I’m willing to put money on this, you were a loyal soldier, following orders, and you were tricked.”

    “I should’ve-”

    “You’ve been hanging out with humans. And yeah I know the whole ‘I should’ve known better’ spiel but if you were following orders it was a person of power manipulating you and angels have got it hardwired into their brains to always follow orders. When they fall the angels in command loose their complete control over the fallen, but ya still got it carved into you. You literally can’t be blamed for any of this and whoever  _does_  blame you is a moron.” You rant, turning your music back up a little bit. The man is silent for a few moments.

    “You’re a demon… Aren’t you supposed to be a little more-”

    “Evil, rude, bitchy, misunderstanding? Probably, but I’m on the run from home sweet hell. Isn’t as fun to kill humans when you remember when you were one. Emotions are startin’ to come back, too. Sucks horribly, but you probably already know that. I think demons can rise from hell like angels can fall from heaven. Weird to think about, huh?” You ask, opening your beer and scowling as it splashes off the hood of your car and onto your pants a little bit. “Want one?” You ask the fallen angel turned human. The man stares at you for a while before nodding, and you toss him a beer which he opens and hesitantly sips.

    “What is your name?” The angel asks.

    “(Y/N).” You reply, taking a swig of the cheap beer.

    “I am Castiel.” The man replies.

    “Nice ta’ meet you, Cas.” You greet, raising your beer to him before taking another swig and turning up your music. Eventually Cas joins you on the long hood of your car and watches the angels, his brothers and sisters, fall.


	37. Gabe/Dean/Cas 1, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean needs to see hellhounds again, but the glasses have an unexpected added feature; they allow Dean to see angel wings, continued**

 

    “You okay?” Sam asks, looking over at his brother as the older Winchester suddenly jolts. Dean is sitting completely still, gritting his teeth and looking straight at the movie on the TV. The closest person in the room to him is Gabriel, but the archangel is on the other side of the large couch in the bunker living room.

    “Yeah. I’m fine.” Dean says, hardened eyes not leaving the TV screen.

    “Yeah, sure.” Sam says. He looks at his brother after a while, still not used to seeing him in glasses. The angels, Cas in particular, insisted that the hunter was to constantly wear the glasses, and they even gave him some angelic contacts or something for when Dean doesn’t or can’t wear the glasses. “Alright, I’m going to bed. Night.” Dean looks panicked as his brother leaves the room and when the door to his brother’s room closes he practically scrambles away from Gabriel. Well, he tries to, but an invisible wall blocks his escape route. Castiel doesn’t look up as Gabriel unleashes his full wingspan, wrapping three of his huge wings around Dean and pulling the struggling hunter closer to him until he’s able to lean against him.

    “Relax, Dean.” Castiel mutters from where he releases his wings to full size. The damn angel doesn’t even look away from the TV. Dean still whines and tries to shift away but Gabriel has three wings around him along with his arms, and the archangel is resting his head on the hunter’s chest. This time Dean can’t deny that he whimpers and Gabriel tightens his hold on him encouragingly as he lets his other three wings fold over the two. Dean is sitting stiff as a board but he seriously can’t help but feel protected with the two angels who haven’t let him out of their sight for more than five minutes for the last three weeks. Dean, once again, dozes off while in Gabriel’s hold. It’s beginning to become a common thing and it’s annoying the older Winchester brother. Mostly because both of the angels are missing when he wakes in the morning every time without fail.


	38. Lucifer 2, 3/?

**(Y/N) = Your Name**

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader, who happens to be a demon, is in love with Lucifer but they try to hide it by acting like they hate him, continued once again**

 

    You look around the room in boredom, crossing your eyes and shifting so you’re ready to attack the increasingly aggressive demon in the room. The size of the balls these demons, the ones who come and  _yell_  at  _Lucifer_ , have is basically unmeasurable. So far there have only been ten out of thirty five beings that walked out of this room alive. “Really, is that what you think?” Lucifer questions, eyes darkening as the room drops a few degrees. You wince, shifting away from the King of hell as subtly as you can.

    You ignore the way your gut clenches painfully in disgust and fear. You can't help but step back in fear once again as the demon in front of you explodes, warped, black soul and all. You ignore the feeling of cold eyes watching you as you barely manage not to puke  _again_. As the next person walks through the door, a skinwalker in the form of a small chinese woman with disturbingly blue eyes, you walk towards the left side of the table. You sit down a decent amount away from Lucifer and you refuse to look at him, instead you focus intently on the skinwalker.

 

***

 

    You’re covered in blood and completely nauseous when the meetings finish and you teleport into your room again in less than a second as soon as the last person explodes. You waste no time appearing in your bathroom and promptly throwing up. You feel a hand on your back and you retch harder, trying to move away from the man who’s _causing_  you to throw up. Apparently that’s impossible in the small ass bathroom you were given.

    “Relax.” Lucifer mumbles, still rubbing your back as he looks around your rooms in disgust. You feel the nausea  suddenly fade and your world starts fading. You grabbed under your legs and lifted bridal style and  _then_  a wall off black hits you as you pass out.


	39. Team Free Will 1

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Team Free Will and the reader, a little (boy/girl/other), keeps getting pretty shells and bringing them to Sam and Castiel**

 

    “Look!” You exclaim, holding up the pretty shell to Castiel. The angel looks down at you, uncrossing his arms as he gets down on one knee so he doesn’t tower over you.

    “It is very beautiful.” Castiel states, allowing you to give him the shell. This is the seventh you’ve given Cas. Cas likes your pretty shells. This one is a pretty cream color with maroon along the tops of each spiral. It ends in a sharp point you accidently poked your finger on. It’s got a few brown spots here and there and it’s twice as big as your hand.

    “Pretty.” You agree before toddling back to the beach to look for more shells. You don’t  _see_  what Castiel does with the shell, but the angel sneaks it into his trench coat’s pocket. Dean calls your name and you walk over to him, letting him put more sunburn on you. Afterwards he gives you a small red bucket to put your shells in and sends you away, keeping a close eyes on you as you go back by the water. Dean is tanning, Castiel is reading, and Sam is swimming. You eventually walk into the shallower waters, splashing around happily and grabbing only the prettiest of shells. You have a thick layer of shells for Sam and Cas but you can’t find a good shell for Dean. “Sam!” You shout, causing the younger Winchester brother to whip around. He smiles as he walks towards you, easily moving through the waves.

    “Hey there, (Y/N).” Sam smiles, showing his straight, white teeth.

    “Deep end.” You order, lifting up your arms so Sam knows you want to be picked up. Sam rolls his eyes in amusement at your bossiness before picking you up and carrying you deeper. On the way there, you give Sam one of his shells. It’s like one of the clams you see on Spongebob Sunday afternoons, but instead of being purple and chirping it’s brown with green and grey flakes. And it doesn’t make any noises.

    “Thank you, (Y/N).” Sam says, putting the shell in his trunk’s pocket. When you’re in deeper waters you see the perfect shell for Dean. It’s a light green color and it’s got brown and black flecks on it and it’s spiral with the top highlighted with dark grey and you  _need it_.

    “Shell!” You shout, pointing at it. Sam furrows his brows as he looks down.

    “You have a lot of shells, though.”

    “Dean’s shell!” You tell Sam and he nods, bending down and putting you on his back while he gets the shell for you. When he hands it to you you wave your hands above your head happily, the shell very visible.

    “Dean!” You shout, the oldest Winchester looks at you with a raised brow. “Shell!” You show him the shell. Even from this distance, you can see his smile.


	40. Sam 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine going camping with the Winchesters but you need to share a sleeping bag with Sam because you three only packed two, expecting nights to be warm like the days**

 

    “There’s only two bags. (Y/N), you gotta bunk up with Sam.” Dean groans in his half asleep groan. You’re (Y/E/C) eyes snap over to look at the Winchester in the small sleeping bag. You hear Sam shift next to you, and you realize what he’s doing a second too late. A strong arm wraps around your middle. You thrash around a bit, but the Winchester is  _much_  stronger than you are. Dean doesn’t even shift, ignoring your yelling as Sam pulls you into his sleeping bag. Dean rolls over and zips the sleeping bag closed without opening his eyes, and then he rolls back over and passes out. Sam is still holding you by the stomach with one of his arms, the other underneath his head in a way that you both can use it as an extra pillow.

    “Let me go.” You mutter, still trying to get out of Sam’s hold. The younger Winchester brother doesn’t respond verbally. He just pulls you closer to him and turns in a way where he’s nearly hovering over you while laying down at the same time. The hunter is almost unnaturally hot, and the heat is radiating around the inside of the sleeping bag. It isn’t exactly unwelcomed. It’s a nice contrast to the nipping cold outside of the sleeping bag which is even worse outside the tent.

    “Go to sleep.” Sam grumbles in a sleep-roughened voice behind your head. Goosebumps appear on your arms and legs as a shiver rolls through you. Luckily, Sam is too tired to notice the reaction his voice caused. How? You aren’t sure. The man is basically on top of you. You sigh through your nose before turning around, placing your hands and forehead against Sam’s chest. Sam shifts sleepily, wrapping both of his arms around you as he holds you close. You close your eyes, slowly drifting off to the sound of Sam’s heart beat and the howling wind outside the tent.


	41. Crowley 2

**(Y/N) = Your Name**

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine having Crowley following you around all day because Fate suddenly has something against you**

 

    “Will you leave me alone?!” You shout, glaring at the king of hell as he casually strolls behind you.

    “Absolutely not. Love, there’s a bounty on your head, and if anybody is going to collect it, it’ll be  _me_.” The demon replies, causing you to scowl. You flip him off as you pick up your pace, trying to lose him in a crowd or something. “Duck. And move forwards a bit.” Crowley orders and you stubbornly stand still. The demon’s eyes darken angrily as he moves forwards, grabbing you by the neck and pulling you a few feet forwards before shoving you to the ground. He disappears as a car sails over your head, but he reappears as soon as it’s safe.

    “What the hell is up with this chick?” You groan, rolling over and rubbing at your eyes. Fate, who happens to be possessing some kind of secretary, has been trying to kill you all day. Why? Apparently somebody put a bounty on you, and all sorts of not human fuckwads have been trying to kill you the entire day.

    “Like I’ve said  _repeatedly_. There’s a bounty on your head, and Fate wants it. If worst comes to worst I’ll kill you then make you come back as a demon, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

    “Asshole.” You mutter as you climb to your feet. For once, you let Crowley drag you across the street without question. In seconds, the building the car had flown into explodes behind you. “She is so getting fired.” You state.

    “Oh yeah.” Crowley agrees before picking up his pace. The entire day consists of you running or being thrown by Crowley. You’re pretty sure you lost like ten pounds.


	42. Dean 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine teaching Dean how to dance**

 

    “That isn’t dancing, that’s a disgrace.” You say, staring at Dean as he flails his arms and shakes his hips. “You gotta- oh dear god my eyes. No, put your foot here, and put the other one here. Good. Now you gotta stand up straighter. As in make your back straighter than you are.” You mutter, positioning Dean how he’s supposed to be. You frown a bit at the height difference between you two. You were going to teach the Winchester how to be the following role first, but you’re pretty sure that won’t happen. “Now you have rhythm, but you don’t seem to know how to use it. You can swing your hips pretty well so just- Dean you gotta work with me here.” You scowl as the hunter barely moves his hips.

    “Why should I go along with this?” Dean questions you, one brow raised as his green eyes watch you closely.

    “Because guys who can dance are about three thousand times hotter. Swing your hips.” You order. Dean rolls his eyes but complies, and you smile a bit. “Alright, good. So you’re gonna need to be able to do that and walk at the same time. Here, put one hand on my hip. Alright, give me your other hand for now. Now follow my lead, but sorta take over. You gotta swing your hips as we move, and as far as I’m aware there isn’t an invisible wall between us. Get closer.”

    “Is hip swinging really necessary?” Dean questions.

    “No, but I’m not an amature and you won’t be either. I refuse to allow that. Step closer you fuckwad. Alright, good. Now-  _there you go_. Just like that. Move forwards then back and then you gotta spin me around. Three, two, go. Alright, perfect.” You mutter as you spin, Dean catching you when you turn to face him again. “Done this before, Winchester?” You question.

    “A few times.” Dean replies as he lifts you slightly as you two spin.

    “Just a few?” You ask. Dean twirls both of you around again, getting more into the dancing as a good song comes on.

    “More often than you’ll ever get me to admit.” Dean asks as he swings his hips in time with yours. You move backwards as he moves forwards, and you two just sorta work together. You both hear when Sam gets back and you turn down the music as Dean steps away from you. He winks at you before walking down the hall to the kitchen.


	43. Cas 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine cooking with Castiel**

 

    “ _Don’t touch that_.” You order for the fifth time today. Even if it isn’t on, you’re sure Cas will be able to hurt himself on the stove or the grill.

    “My apologies.” Cas murmurs and you sigh, pulling a hand through your (Y/H/C) locks.

    “No, it’s fine. Just preheat that to 425 degrees and start the grill.” You order, forgetting for a few moments that Cas has no idea how to do that. “Sorry. Push that button that says bake, then push the up or down arrows until those small orange numbers read 425. I’ll get the grill. All we gotta do it stick this here and then turn this and walah. Look at that. The grill is started. I’ll do that later, though, when we’re actually cooking.” You turn off the grill, turning around. You grab a tenderizer. “Alright I need you to cut these open and stuff them in a bowl with a few things.” You say, handing Cas the ground beef as you step back inside your house, heading to the fridge.

    “What things?” Cas asks, confused.

    “Literally getting them right now. Are your hands washed?” You ask, grabbing seasons from the cabinets.

    “Yes, I washed my hands before we started cooking.” Cas informs you and you nod.

    “Alright, good. Now I’m trusting you to have good judgement with this. I’ve chosen spices that should taste fine no matter if you put in too much or too little of them but they won’t taste that great.” You say. Cas looks a bit terrified so you give him a brief description of the spices and how they’ll change the flavor. The angel nods so you set off and start with the bacon, putting it into the stove as Cas finishes putting in the spices.

    “Where is the mixing tool?” Cas asks, looking around in confusion.

    “Your hands are clean and they’re all dirty. Just use your hands.” You tell him before grabbing the steak kabobs. You already taught Cas how to make these. You add on the peppers and onions before grabbing that platter and the corn wrapped in tin foil. You head out to the grill, telling Cas to use oven mitts when taking the bacon out of the oven but to wash his hands first. As Cas finishes making the patties you’re finished with the corn and the kabobs, and you’re buttering the corn on the cobs.

    “The bacon is done.” Castiel informs you as he places it on top of the stove. He also stops the chicken you’re frying. How you guys eat so much meat is beyond your comprehension.

    “Alright. Let the bacon cool a bit and cut up that froot. Keep Dean out of the kitchen period and only let Sam in if he wants to help. As you’re grilling the burgers, Castiel is washing the lettuce and a few other veggies. Sam and you like vegetables, and Cas usually has a salad along with the rest of the food he eats.

    “I smell- Hey!” You hear Dean shout, causing you to smirk. You turn slightly and see Cas wink at you before he goes back to rinsing off the lettuce.


	44. Winchester Brothers 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam and Dean’s faces as you save their asses after being dead for three years**

 

    You scowl as you kick open the door, hearing a familiar groan of pain. Your eyes narrow as you move through the warehouse quickly, raising your crossbow as you enter a new room. You bring out a machete as you jump down from the highest rafters. You cut off a vampire’s head as you pass it, rolling as you hit the floor. You spin around and shoot another two vampires with arrows covered in dead man’s blood. As you race past the guards you spin, cutting off their heads. You kick open the next door, taking out the vampire guarding Sam Winchester. You shoot the chain holding him, watching it split in half before you shoot the vampire about to change Dean between the eyes. Through the back of his head. Sam launches himself at the vampire, taking the offered machete and hacking off the bloodsucker’s head.

“How the hell are you alive?” Sam asks you as soon as he frees Dean, pointing at you with the machete in his hand.

    “Wow, using my own weapon against me. That’s cold, Sammy. But in all honesty? I have absolutely no idea. I know that I made a deal to save your asses. I know that my soul was collected. I was in hell yesterday…” You enter a horrific daze that includes your skin burning slightly in memory of your visit down under. Dean winces as he recognizes the look in your eyes, and the motion snaps you out of the daze. “And now I’m here. I- I don’t know how- how-” You start stuttering, shaking slightly.

    “Hey hey hey. No, don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Get over here.” Dean murmurs, holding out his hand. You shakily approach him, reaching out almost hesitantly. Dean takes that step forwards and gently grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him. You very nearly start sobbing as you place your head against the Winchester’s chest. You can hear his slow heartbeat, which is slowly picking up as he does his best to hide his emotions. Dean wraps his arms around you, and you can feel a connection forming quickly. This happened to him, too. You remember that. You nearly burst out crying as you realize that somebody understands exactly what you’re going through. But to a smaller extent. He was in hell for four months and that was  _years_  for him. You were in there for thirty six months. You were in there for  _centuries_.

    “Give (him/her/them) to me, (he’s/she’s/they’re) only a few inches smaller than you and you’re suffering from blood loss. Let me carry her to the car at least.” Sam whispers. You’re passed off and Sam puts one arm against your back and the other against the back of your knees. As he stands up he starts walking, and the swaying motion is enough to let you gently fall asleep.


	45. Lucifer 2, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader, who happens to be a demon, is in love with Lucifer but they try to hide it by acting like they hate him, continued another time**   
  


    When you wake up you  _know_  that you’re in the same location as your house was before, but this is not the dump you called a living space. The first giveaway that something is  _very_  different is the fact that the bed you’re laying on is  _way_  too soft and comfortable. The second? When you roll onto your side, your nose isn’t touching a wall. There’s usually barely a foot of room on the other side of your room, but there’s never more than a centimeter on this side of the room, and you’re on the edge of the bed. Somebody’s tucked you beneath covers and you’re almost unable to move because of the tucking. “What?” You mumble, struggling to get out from under the covers. You wince as you roll further, hitting the floor. At least you’re able to get out from under your covers now.

    “Mr/Ms. (Y/N)? Is everything alright in there?” Somebody is knocking on a door. And asking about your wellbeing.

    “Who the hell are you?” You call back, rolling onto your back and tossing plush blankets onto the bed that is  _definitely_  not your piece of shit mattress on top of a hunk of steel.

    “One of the new maids, Sir/Ma’am. Do you need help with anything? Breakfast is done when you’re ready to come out. Down the hall, down the stairs, and then the nearest right for the dining hall.” The woman says kindly before leaving after you assure her you don’t need help with anything. You climb to your feet, looking around the room cautiously. It’s huge. It has that insanely comfortable bed, walls your favorite color, dark wooden flooring, a huge dresser, a walk in closet and bathroom attached, and even a  _couch_  with a huge  _flatscreen_.

    “What the  _fuck_.” You say out loud, wandering to the dresser and finding previously owned clothing mixed in with amazing clothes you’ve never even  _seen_  before. You wander into the closet and find it full of long sleeved shirts, flannels, jackets, and shoes. Mostly combat boots. There’s  _weapons_  in there too.  _So many_  weapons and sheaths and  _holy shit is that a demon sword_? You peak into the bathroom and find shiny black appliances on top of grey marble flooring and spotless white walls. You pull on a tank top and well fitting jeans before leaving the room.

    “Hello, (Y/N).” A familiar voice greets you. You turn slightly, hand moving to where you usually kept your blade. Oh, right. You’re in fucking sweatpants.

    “Hello, sir.” You mumble, continuing down the hall as you try to ignore the King of hell, who just so happens to be following you. He speeds up a bit until he’s walking next to you, but he doesn’t try to start a conversation until you’re almost to the dining hall.

    “You aren’t even going to ask about it?” Lucifer questions, motioning to the mansion surrounding you.

    “I find it better not to, because your resting personality is ‘asshole’ so I figured I’d rather not have this amazing house suddenly disappear from around me.” You reply, glancing sideways as the archangel stops next to the door leading to the dining room. You look at him, keeping eye contact as long as you can bare until he wins yet  _another_  staring contest. You can see in his eyes that he’s been forgiven, though, when you  mumble “thank you” under your breath before going to eat.


	46. Winchester Brothers (More of Dean) 4, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam and Dean’s faces as you save their asses after being dead for three years, continued**

 

    When you wake up you almost launch yourself to your feet, trying to run but being stopped by an arm around your waste. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Dean. Calm down, I’m right here. You’re not there anymore. You aren’t in Hell.” Dean whispers into your hair as he holds you still. He repeats the words until you calm down and go almost limp, rolling onto your side so you can hide your tears in Dean’s chest. The older Winchester brother holds you close to him, continuing his comforting murmurs until you calm down enough to turn your head so you’re just laying against Dean instead of muffling your crying. Dean runs a hand through your hair, pulling on some of the (Y/H/C) locks occasionally like he did before your time ran out.

    “Dean?” You whisper, looking for his green eyes when you snap out of the fear induced daze your nightmares- memories had forced you into.

    “I’m here. I’m right here. You’re back with all of us. You’re back with me.” Dean whispers. You nod tiredly, having been continuously waking up throughout the night. “Go back to sleep, (Y/N).”

    “Will you stay here with me?” You whisper back, shifting closer to Dean as you put your forehead against his chest again.

    “I’ll be here for as long as you want me to.” Dean responds, wrapping his other arm around you as he turns. You end up on top of the Winchester, one side of your face pressed softly against his well worn shirt. One of his arms is wrapped around you, the hand holding your waist, and the other is just over Dean’s head in the position it ends up in while he sleeps. You close your eyes, breathing slowly as you try to fall asleep. Somehow, Dean is more comfortable than the mattress you had just been laying on.

    “Will you… Wake me up when-” A yawn cuts you off. “When Sam finishes breakfast? Please?” You murmur the question, shifting slightly so both you and Dean are in a comfortable position.

    “Do you want me to?” Dean asks, his voice roughened by sleep.

    “Yeah.”

    “Then yeah, I’ll wake you. Now go to sleep, you really need the rest.” Dean says, running his other hand through your hair again.

    “That’s… Cheating.” You mutter. Dean’s chest bounces slightly with his chuckles, but the Winchester doesn’t respond. You listen to the man’s heartbeat, and you take in the familiar scent of his cheap cologne and oil. You yawn one last time before falling asleep again. This time, you don’t wake up until Dean is gently shaking you awake for breakfast.


	47. Team Free Will 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Google Translate these aren't gonna be very exact

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Pronunciation)_ **

 

**Imagine being fluent in multiple languages, and you casually switch between them when you talk to Sam and Dean. You never expected Ellen and Jo to understand you, though**

 

    “That’s very interesting. please, tell me more.” You monotone, staring at the TV as you ignore Sam as he drones on about lawyer things. This happens like, three times a week. When the Winchester actually continues you roll your eyes lolling your head on the back of the couch.

    “So like I was saying when it’s your turn to speak you gotta-”

    “Так как я уже сказал , когда это ваша очередь говорить вы получаете (Tak kak ya uzhe skazal , kogda eto vasha ochered' govorit' , vy poluchayete).” You cut him off with repeating what he said in Russian.

    “Like- Like I was saying-”

    “Как я уже говорил (Kak ya uzhe govoril).” You drone back, getting a raised eyebrow from Dean.

    “You even have the accent down.” Dean comments.

    “Of course I have the accent down you дебил (debil).” You say in a heavy Russian accent, causing Dean to stick his tongue out at you childishly and turn back around. What shot is he on again? Jo, who Gabriel brought back after he came back, and Ellen, also brought back by Gabe, look at you curiously.

    “Вы говорите по-русски (Vy govorite po-russki)?” Ellen asks.

    “Нет дерьмо (Net der'mo).” You reply, growing as Ellen speaks the language fluently.

    “你说中国话 (Nǐ shuō zhōngguó huà)?” Jo asks.

    “是的，我愿意 (Shì de, wǒ yuànyì).” You reply. “Sprechen Deutsch?” You switch languages.

    “C’mon, guys!” Dean shouts from his spot at the bar. You turn slightly, staring at the hunter with green eyes.

    “Tais-toi , Dean.” You switch languages again. Jo rolls her eyes and goes back to nursing her beer.

 

***  
  


_Так как я уже сказал , когда это ваша очередь говорить вы получает -_ _So like I was saying when it’s your turn to speak you gotta_

_Как я уже говорил - Like I was saying_

_дебил - moron_

_Вы говорите по-русски - You speak Russian?_

_Нет дерьмо - No shit_

_你说中国话 - Do you speak Chinese_

_是的，我愿意 - Yes I do_


	48. Samifer (Sorta) 1, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

****__  
  


**Imagine being Lucifer’s soulmate, automatically making you Sam’s soulmate, too, continued**

You’re walking down the street, carrying your grocery bags because you got into a car accident, when you bump into him. He’s tall and got dark hair and the most amazing eyes you’ve ever seen… And you literally run into him. You can’t really be blamed… You can’t really see the giant over your paper bags. Usually you get plastic but the cashier checking you out somehow managed to have no plastic bags at his station. “Dude I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, dropping onto your knees and starting to pick up your groceries.

“No, sorry it was my fault. Should’a watched where I was going.” Holy shit that voice. You think you might faint. This is like something straight out of a romance movie.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine. Maybe you can repay me for the ruined food with dinner? Tonight?” You flirt a bit, smoothing out your stuttery tone for a few moments. A light blush covers your face as you continue picking up the good food and putting it in the bags.

“That sounds great. I’ll walk you home. Seems like you need some help carrying the groceries.” He actually accepted. This greek god of a man just accepted a date. With you. When you had only been talking for a few moments. When you glance up at the man he has a flirty smirk on, causing your blush to worsen a bit.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.” You murmur as you stand up, grabbing your bags.

“Sam.” The man introduces himself, taking more than half the bags and leaving you with only two. “Lead the way, (Y/N).” Sam smiles and you turn quickly so he doesn’t see your blush. You walk faster than normal so Sam doesn’t have to walk slowly. You enter the code to your apartment in and then hold the door for Sam while he walks past you. The dude is a gift straight from hell. You’d say heaven but the man’s too hot for that. The man even helped you put the fucking food away. He’s so nice, and hot, and everything from a movie or book. What the hell is happening?

“Thank you so much. You have no idea how long it would’ve taken me to put everything away by myself.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“No problem, you can repay me by getting ready for dinner tonight. I’ll pick you up at six, is that okay?” Sam questions and you nod. Sam smiles widely. “Then, see you at six. Don’t dress up too nicely, we’re just going to a good restaurant I know of.” And then he kisses your hand and leaves, leaving you speechless in the middle of the kitchen with a can of pineapple in your other hand.


	49. Castiel 5

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

_**(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color** _

_**(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color** _

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

__

**Imagine that instead of Adam, you’re the other Winchester child, and Cas gets to you before the other angels, along with Dean, Sam, and Bobby**

“Who are you?” You ask Dean. You had only just recently found out their names, and you’re still unsure as to why you were in his house.

“I’ve told you. I’m Dean and this is Sam.”

“Winchester.” You add on.

“Yeah.”

“As in related to me?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you for the last half hour!” Dean shouts, throwing his arms out in annoyance.

“But that angel, Zacharia. He told me I was a vessel. The vessel.”

“Come on (Y/N)! We all know you’re not that stupid. I am the vessel. I am Michael’s true vessel! The angels are just being manipulative pieces of shit and will probably use you against us before using you as a vessel.” Dean exclaims before rubbing his temples, mumbling something about idiots and flying monkeys.

“Oh.” You mutter, crossing your arms. You stiffen up when the air next to you shifts and you jump away a second before two men appear next to where you were standing. Sam grabs you and steps in front of you. Crushing you against a wall as he’s flung backwards.

“Didn’t think you’d figure that out, Dean. I’m a little proud, but a lot more annoyed. Where’s (Y/N)?” Zacharia, the first person you saw when you were revived, asks.

Behind a giant man with a broken wrist  You think wryly, not moving as Sam shifts uncomfortably as he tries to hide you. It seems to work, but the way that  blue eyes are staring almost through Sam tells you otherwise. The angel in the trench coat crosses his arms, allowing Zacharia to speak for him.

“Wow, Cas. I thought you were against unneeded violence.” Dean says, taking a few steps back.

“When the Lord says violence is needed, then it is necessary.” The man in the trench coat, Cas, utters, his voice deep as he continues staring at Sam. The taller man drops and he rushes the two angels, Dean doing the same but aiming for Zacharia.

“(Y/N)! Run!” Dean shouts, shoving Zacharia. The unsuspecting angel falls to the ground and you race out of the room. The man in the trench coat appears in front of you, but the shoulder attached to the arm reaching for you recoils back as bullet holes appear in the fabric covering him.

“Go!” Bobby shouts and you duck, aiming for the panic room as you fly down the stairs, skipping about six stairs at the end of the staircase.

“I truly am sorry.” Cas mutters from behind you before he grabs your shoulder and the world goes dark.


	50. Castiel/Reader/Demon!Dean 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for abuse (mental and physical) and cannon typical violence

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

_**(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color** _

_**(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color** _

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

**Imagine the reader is in a relationship with Castiel, but when Dean turns into a demon he wants control of everything (including the reader). When the reader refuses to break up with Castiel after Demon!Dean makes a move on her, Demon!Dean decides to make her regret the decision. But then Castiel catches on**

“You’re worthless. Everybody will stop caring about you, even Castiel. How have you  been explaining the bruises, (Y/N)? Do you think he believes you? Does he know you’re lying to him and thinks of you like you deserve to be? Does he?” Dean circles you, his eyes completely black. You keep your head down, your lower lip and hands trembling as you just barely hold back tears. “Answer me!”  Dean shouts, backhanding you hard enough to cause your head to whip to the right with a resounding crack.

“No. No he doesn’t.” You cough up, some blood coming up with the next few hacks as Dean kicks you in the stomach.

“He will soon enough.” Dean sneers before flicking his eyes back to their green color. He leaves you kneeling over as he walks out of the room, wiping his hand off on his shirt.

 

***

 

“(Y/N)? Are you feeling well?” Castiel asks, his eyes full of so much worry and love that you almost burst out crying. You just nod, pulling your shirt sleeves down further and hoping you put enough concealer on the huge bruise that’s formed on your face. Castiel stares at you, his blue orbs staring into your own (Y/E/C) eyes until you look away a little nervously.

“Yeah, I’m okay… How’s the food?” You ask, your voice sounding a little strained. A lot strained. Like you’re about to break down.

“It’s amazing.” Cas smiles, obviously trying to get the same reaction from you. At the reminder that somebody actually cares about you like Cas does a small smile does flash across your lips, lightness flickering in your eyes before they fade back to a dullness that has Cas looking more worried than usual. You look down at your phone and wince, getting up.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I-I need to go.” You whisper, pocketing your phone and getting up. As you walk away, you don’t notice your phone falls out of your pocket as you walk away shakily. Cas picks up your phone, about to call out for you, but then he looks down at the device. His hands start shaking in anger at the ‘bitch’ that Dean had sent you. You scowls as he unlocks your phone and reads your messages from him. What you do hear is  an enraged “DEAN”, and that’s when you notice how your phone isn’t in your pocket. Castiel appears at the same time Dean does, and his fist connects solidly with the demon’s jaw.

“”Oh, I’ve been waiting for this.” Dean smirks, spitting out blood before shouting angrily and launching himself at Cas. The demon knocks the angel to the floor and begins punching him repeatedly. You scream, rushing forwards slightly but backing up at Castiel’s wave. The angel hooks his leg on Dean’s back and twists, slamming the demon onto his back. The angel then grabs Dean around the neck after a hard and well aimed punch and lifts him, slamming him against the nearest wall until the demon passes out.


	51. Castiel 5, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine that instead of Adam, you’re the other Winchester child, and Cas gets to you before the other angels, along with Dean, Sam, and Bobby, continued**

 

    When you wake up you’re in a small room, a platter of burgers, your favorite burgers, in the center of a table also in the room. You try to get onto your feet but one of your wrists are handcuffed to a chair. You bite back a groan as pain shoots through your skull like lightning, wobbling slightly before giving up on your painful position and falling back onto the chair. You utter a very well thought out string of annoyed swears as you reach into your jacket and pull out your ‘emergency’ supply of lock picking materials. You rub your wrist, that has a circle of both fresh and dried blood around it, when you get it free. You jump backwards as the air shifts in front of you and Cas - Castiel? Just Cas? Cass? - appears in front of you suddenly.

    “How did you get out of the cuffs?” The angel questions, pointedly ignoring your wrist. His eyes flicker almost down to the injured area but stop just before and go back to your face. Now that you’re actually looking at the angel you can see the faint outline of… Large navy objects behind him. They shift around, and you can only see them if you focus  _only_  on them and them alone. How are they glowing navy? Shouldn’t that be impossible because of how dark the color is? Yeah, you’re pretty sure.

    “Just cause John took me to  _one_  baseball game and I didn’t travel with Sam and Dean doesn’t mean I lead an apple pie life.” You mutter, glaring at the angel as you try not to stare at the…  _Wings_. They’re  _wings._  Your breath escapes you for a moment as you stare at the wings pointedly in shock. Shouldn’t your eyes be, like, burning out of their sockets? You stared directly at Zacharia for more than half an hour, and you never saw  _his_  wings. What the hell?

    “What are you staring at?” Cas questions, turning slightly to look behind him as his wings peak in what’s probably aggression and curiosity. When he turns back to you his wings move down a bit, and his head is tilted to the side as his blue eyes bore into your (Y/E/C) pair. You shuffle back a bit as the man’s wings move in front of him a bit protectively.

    “Nothing.” You lie, turning away and walking to the table. You pointedly ignore the burgers, even though you  _know_  you’ve been passed out for at  _least_  three days, and grab a water. Cas stares at you, his eyes and head following you but his body doesn’t shift once. His wings, however, keep shifting around. And it’s getting quite difficult to ignore them as they continuously get more and more opaque, therefore getting more and more beautiful. The fifteenth time your eyes follow his wings they move sporadically, and then the angel freezes up, his wings going still.

    “You can see my wings.” Cas murmurs, shock heavy in his voice. Then he approaches you quickly, taps you between your eyes, and catches you as you pitch forwards, the world going black once again.


	52. Castiel 5, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine that instead of Adam, you’re the other Winchester child, and Cas gets to you before the other angels, along with Dean, Sam, and Bobby, continued again**

 

    When you wake up you’re in an unfamiliar room, covered by blankets much softer than you’re used to, and the smell of food hangs heavily in the air. Your stomach makes a noise as you murmur curses at the headache thrumming through your head, the steady beat like a drum that plays under the quick thuds your heart is making. You spend almost three minutes kicking off the blankets you had been cocooned in, and then you nearly fall off of the bed you had been placed on. You jump as you bump into something softer than anything you’ve touched before, and then it starts wrapping around you. You stiffen a bit as you’re slid forwards, but then the wings stop moving suddenly. You hear a yawn and only then do you notice the man lying on his stomach on the couch. He shifts and you raise a brow as you notice how he’s only in his boxers. When you take a step closer the wings quickly move around you and snap back to the man’s back as he startles awake, turning and sitting up quickly to stare at you in surprise.

    “I… I apologize for my recent actions. Please understand, I am an angel of the lord, and I must do what He orders. But… I am unable to allow myself, or anyone, to hurt you.” The angel, Cas, says.

    “What’s your name? Dean called you Cas… Oh my God. Dean.” You suddenly turn pale and feel like you’re out of breath. Cas is staring at you with a worried looked and his head is tilted to the side again.

    “Dean is well and not uninjured, but also not horribly injured. Just… Normally injured?” Cas sounds like he’s asking the last part, and you very nearly roll your eyes. But you don’t. Because the angel looks genuinely worried for you, and being able to see his wings seems to be something huge. You aren’t sure why, yet.

    “Alright. Good. Nobody’s dead? Or really hurt?” You ask, still a bit breathless.

    “Dean stabbed Zacharia with his own angel blade, and Sam very nearly bled out internally, but I healed them to the best of my ability from this distance, and they will not die.” Cas informs you. “And my name is Castiel.”

    “Alright good. Sorry about your… Buddy?” You aren’t exactly sure what Zacharia was to Castiel. The angel shrugs, his wings moving gracefully as if to make up for the crappy, jerky movement.

    “Zacharia was my boss, and not very well liked to many angels, including myself. I feel almost no regret about his death.” Castiel murmurs, still watching you hesitantly as he keeps his wings away from you reluctantly. The wings were much different when he was asleep.

    “Why can I see them? Your wings.” You clarify when you see confusion flash across Castiel’s electric eyes.

    “Because you are my soulmate, and a small part of my grace has bonded to your soul. I fear what I will become because of it.” Cas says, causing you to stiffen and stare at the angel with wide, shocked eyes.


	53. Castiel 5, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine that instead of Adam, you’re the other Winchester child, and Cas gets to you before the other angels, along with Dean, Sam, and Bobby, continued another time**

 

    “Did you get food?” You question from the couch as Castiel appears in the kitchen. You hear the angel make a sound of confirmation before you pay attention to the TV again. You hear a meow and your eyes flicker to the doorway as your siamese kitten struts in, her blue eyes very vivid against the brown on her face. Castiel finishes putting away the food before he wanders into the living room. A small squeak escapes you as you’re picked up and a blush covers your face because of the sound. You had almost forgotten how Castiel acts, like an angel instead of a human. You’ve given up on trying to explain to him how people don’t just do the things he does. He did explain how he needed to have contact with you a few times a day so he can fight off the urge to mark you, so you’ve just accepted this is gonna be a part of your life now.

    “Hey there.” You mutter as you’re placed on top of the angel. “You okay?” Usually Castiel talks more. Probably because he never got the chance to speak with the angels and he isn’t exactly on the best of terms with the other Winchesters. He isn’t on the worst terms, either, and that’s a good thing.

    “I am well.” Cas murmurs as he focuses on the TV. His wings partially wrap around you but one hangs off the couch limply like Castiel’s arm. His other arm is wrapped around your stomach casually. A shiver runs down your spine as his stubble accidentally rubs against the back of your neck as Castiel’s head turns, and the angel raises a brow as he looks at you. He’s been using more and more body language recently, mostly likely from you. You aren’t sure that he’s aware he does any of the motions, actually.

    “Do  _not_  look at me like that. I gave you that look.” Cas just continues staring at you, his head tilts to the side, causing another shiver as stubble rubs against your neck.

    “Are you cold?” Castiel asks, his eyes showing his confusion quite clearly. It’d be hard to miss anything from this distance, or lack of distance.

    “No I’m not cold. You’re stubble keeps rubbing against my neck and AH!” You squirm and hold back laughter as Castiel turns his head again, this time on purpose. Then the arm on your stomach betrays you as it starts to poke at your sides. “AH! NO! Ahahaha- C-C-C-C’ _mooonnnnn_  No! Away!” You shout, struggling out of the angel’s hold and falling off of the couch. You roll away from Cas as he stands up and you hold up a tube of wrapping paper defiantly. “En garde!” You shout, doing a backwards summersault and standing up. Cas raises a brow at you again and a roll of wrapping paper appears in his hand.

    “I am a soldier of heaven… How do you think you’ll beat me in a swordfight? Even a fake one, like this.” Cas asks as he tilts his head to the side.

    “I don’t know… Let’s find out.” You say before launching yourself at the angel with a battle cry and a raised wrapping paper tube.


	54. Sam 1, 5/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam falling in love with you and you’ve caught on**

 

    “So when are you two gonna start going out going out? As in, you both realize it’s a date.” Dean interrupts the silence to stare at you and Sam, who are on separate sides of the room, but the older Winchester manages to look at both of you almost at the same time. You choke on the gatorade you were drinking, your favorite flavor too, that sucks ass, and Sam drops his sandwich. Wow, Dean, good job wasting perfectly good food. You sit up so you stop choking, clutching at your throat until your desperate coughing recedes.

    “What?” You and Sam ask in unison, both of your voices a bit scratchy. Sam  _did_  just choke on his sandwich.

    “Don’t play innocent. I’ve been watching you two make puppy love eyes at eachother for the last  _seven months_. You’d  _think_  that one of you’d notice that the other returns the  _attraction_  but  _no_  I guess  _not_.” Dean is obviously annoyed, and he’s still staring at both of you intently. Your stomach drops as Sam glances at you with wide eyes and paled skin.

    “Dean is correct.” Castiel appears in the room, eating a… Is that peanut butter, bananas, and honey on that sandwich? The angel takes another bite of his sandwich contently before speaking again. “You two are destined to be together, anyways.” Thank god you weren’t drinking anything or you would’ve just choked again.

    “Huh?” You ask dumbly, or at least you feel dumb. Your voice is small and quiet, and Sam’s mouth is opening and closing, but no words escape him.

    “Baby bro is right.” Gabriel. Where the hell did he come from? You knew he wasn’t dead but you still haven’t seen him in a while. Why did he decide now of all times was a wonderful time to show up and join an argument. Against you… Sorta. “Cupids, angels, archangels… Hell,  _I_  even ship you two harder than any other humans. Ever. Do you understand how old I am? I didn’t even ship Adam and Eve this hard.” Gabriel hums as he, too, eats a sandwich. Angels don’t even have to eat, what the hell are those two doing?

    “Cupids?” Sam questions, obviously realizing the same thing as you. You were chosen, along with Sam, by cupids. To be together. Dear god, this explains why your crush on the hunter got so intense so quickly.

    “Oh.” You mutter. That’s when you glance at Sam and see something shift behind him. Invisible but visible. You aren’t sure how to explain it. You know what it is. Another cupid bastard. After that your feelings hit you full force and cause you to stagger to your feet, Sam doing the same. And then Sam’s hands are on your hips and your hands are in his hair and you don’t care enough about logic or air to break the kiss that’s leaving you woozy.


	55. Team Free Will 1, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Team Free Will and the reader, a little (boy/girl/other), are at the beach, continued**

 

    “(Y/N)? Sweetheart/Buddy, where are you?” You can hear Dean call and you look up from your sandcastle. Only then do you notice the man standing next to you, watching you build the sandcastle. You stare into his pale eyes for a few moments before smiling and waving.

    “Hello!” You greet happily, joyful because of a new friend who probably likes sandcastles.

    “Hello there.” The man smiles softly as he waves back at you. You smile wider, trying to hand the man a shovel. He hesitantly takes it and sits down slowly, helping you shovel sand into your small purple bucket and flipping it over to make the start of another castle. Your castles are very good. They might not be even on boths sides but you put as much effort as you can into them, and the extra shells you have look very pretty against the dark wet sand. The one with the peach colored spiral shell is the best. It’s a very sharp point that the shell comes to.

    “I’m (Y/N)!” You state proudly. “And I’m this many years old.” You hold up three fingers excitedly.

    “My name is Lucifer, (Y/N).” The blonde/ginger man tells you and you smile again. Uncle Cas always says that you smile too much but Uncle Dean tells him to  “piss off and let him/her be happy” and Uncle Sammy says that you smile just enough.

    “(Y/N), there you are.” Sam says, walking through your new friend like he isn’t there. You frown a bit in confusion but shrug it off.

    “You just walked through my friend!” You exclaim, throwing your baby fat covered arms out to add to your point and show your grumpiness.

    “Oh? I’m sorry (Y/N)’s friend.” Sam says, glancing backwards and looking right through Lucifer.

    “It’s okay, Sam. It’s odd, but nice, seeing you again. A familiar face.” Lucifer says, staring at Uncle Sammy like he knows him.

    “He forgives you.” You tell Sam.

    “That’s good, but look at you! You’re getting sunburn. We need to take you into the shade and put more sunblock on you. As soon as it gets into your skin we’ll go swimming again.” Sam offers and you giggle happily. motioning to be picked up.

    “Kay.” You smile, and you wave at Lucifer as he follows you two. He waves back with a smile.


	56. Team Free Will 1, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Team Free Will taking care of the reader, a little boy/girl, continued**

 

    “Who the hell are you  _talking_  to?” Uncle Dean asks as he walks into the room with you and Lucifer, looking straight through your friend. You wave at Dean and smile, but he still looks a bit freaked.,

    “Her imaginary friend.” Sam tells Dean, causing you to pout and cross your arms angrily.

    “He’s not imaginary. He’s real!” You exclaim, throwing your chubby arms out in protest as Lucifer scowls.

    “That hurts, Sam. I’m no closer to being part of her imagination than I am being part of yours.” Lucifer says even though he knows Sam can’t hear him. That’s when Cas wanders in and stiffens, looking around the room. His eyes catch on Lucifer for a moment but then they continue on their path.

    “Cas? What’s wrong?” Dean questions, his voice still rough with sleep. Cas focuses on you as Dean continues his conversation with Sam. “You can’t tell me that isn’t creepy, dude. She/He’s been talking with his/her imaginary friend  _all night_. Did he/she even sleep? Did you even sleep?” Dean turns to you on the last question.

    “Yeah.” You respond, still playing with your toy cars and planes. “Luci made me. He said that it isn’t healthy to not sleep.”

    “Luci?” Sam asks, slowly sitting up straighter. “Is that the name of your friend?” You turn to him, stopping your playing for a few moments.

    “That’s what I call him. It’s a… A…” You forget the word.

    “Nickname.” Lucifer fills in for you.

    “Yeah! A nickname!” You exclaim, smiling happily at your friend and then at Uncle Sammy.

    “Cas? Is… Is Luci who I think he is?” Sam whispers, pale and horrified.

    “I am afraid he is… However, he is not intending to harm (Y/N). I am unsure as to what he is here for.” Cas turns back to Lucifer, staring at the dark spot in his vision with narrowed eyes. Lucifer shrugs, staring back at his little brother who can’t actually see him.

    “I am here to protect (Y/N).” Lucifer informs Uncle Cas, but he doesn’t seem to hear him.

    “He says he’s here to protect me.” You tell Uncle Cas, Uncle Sammy, and Uncle Dean. Dean sits up ramrod straight.

    “Protect you? Protect you from what?” He questions, causing you to turn back to your pale eyed friend.

    “You’re a prophet, (Y/N). You’re gonna grow up to be a powerful,  _powerful_  prophet. I’m unsure as to why Father sent  _me_  to be your guardian instead of Michael, but here I am.” Lucifer tells you and you turn back to your uncles.

    “He says I’m a… A…”

    “A prophet.”

    “A prophet. And that his Daddy brought him back to be my guardian angel.” You tell the others, and then a heavy silence hangs in the room between the five of you.

    “ _What?!_ ” Dean is the first one to break the silence.


	57. Michae/Reader/Lucifer 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader, a rebellious angel who knew Michael and Lucifer in the past, is alive during the apocalypse, and when Michael and Lucifer hear that the reader still lives, they chase the reader down and try to court them**

 

    You had been hiding from them for years, knowing that they’d track you down as soon as they had a glimpse of your grace. But it’s Cas. It’s your twin brother. He’s  _alive_. And he’s developed emotions just like you have. And you tried as hard as you could to keep hidden as you tried to stop Lucifer from rising. But it didn’t work. And you’ve been with Team Free Will since then. You knew it was bound to happen, they would find you again. But you thought you’d have a longer time to reunite with your brother and befriend the Winchesters. And now that you have, you need to leave. Because now they’re in trouble. They’re in trouble and it’s your fault and you  _can’t_  let them get hurt because of you.

    “Hello, (Y/N).” A deep voice greets behind you. You whirl around, pausing with your toothbrush still in your mouth. You jump backwards, catching the toothbrush and  rinsing quickly. The dark skinned man waits, his blue eyes focused on you intently. Of course, the most obvious thing to you is the blue-white grace that explodes inside the vessel with an energy like almost none other.

    “Michael.” You greet, voice shaky as you take a few steps back, moving more towards the center of the motel room you’re renting.

    “Not expecting me?” The archangel questions, moving towards the flower vase in the room. He takes out the rose, causing the petals to turn ivory. He plays around with the flower before putting it black, not noticing the darkness leaking into the petals, turning the petals raven.

    “Not so soon.” You whisper, jumping away again as another archangel appears behind you. Now you’re cornered. Isn’t this fantastic. “I gotta”

    “ _You_ -” Lucifer closes his fist and you let out a cry of panic as chains appears along the base of your wings, making it impossible for you to fly. “aren’t going anywhere.” You make a small sound of fear as your wings become visible. Onyx feathers drip with gold grace dripping from them like water. But instead of falling to the floor the grace simply disappears. You make a small noise as you move back to the wall, your wings lowered and trembling slightly. Your  _grace_  is  _visible_.

    “Now, now, Lucifer. That’s no way to treat (Y/N).” Michael says with a smirk that causes your blade to slip into the hand behind your back as your wings ouch the wall.

    “He’s/SHe’s/They’ve gotten away from me once. Why should I allow him/her/them to do so again?” Lucifer questions, his pale eyes locking onto your wings, tracing the silver chains without actually touching them.

    “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.” Michael agrees, also turning to stare at you.

    “Oh  _shit_.” You whisper, backing up until your wings are flat against the wall. Twin smirks are the only reply you get.


	58. Sam 3

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam spending the first night alone with his son, because the reader is out on her/his first hunt since being pregnant/taking care of the adopted newborn**

 

    “Shh… C’mon, buddy. Stop crying.” Sam whispers, humming as he bounces his baby in his arms. “Are you hungry? Dirty? Sleepy?” It’s not like Bobby can respond, but that doesn’t stop the Winchester from asking the baby boy. Sam lifts Bobby a bit then makes a face. “Yep, you definitely need a diaper change. How can a baby poop so much?” Sam questions, trying desperately to ignore Bobby’s wailing.

    Sam changes the diaper quickly, humming House of the Rising Sun quietly as he tries to calm Bobby down. The baby eventually stops crying, settling on burbling and making small sniffling noises as he reaches for his dad. Sam sighs, picking up his baby and cradling him gently against his chest. Bobby grabs at Sam’s flannel, bunching the plaid fabric up in his tiny fists. When the baby brings the fabric to his mouth Sam gently grabs his wrist, working the fabric out of his hands easily.

    “Here, bud.” Sam places a bottle in the baby's mouth, sighing in  relief as he starts drinking the formula. The Winchester jumps as his phone rings, shifting Bobby so he can feed him with the hand attached to the arm the baby is cradled in. “Hello?” Sam answers his phone,

    “Sam?” Dean asks from the other end of the phone.

    “Who else would it be?” Sam asks with a raised brow. He lowers it when he realizes that Dean can’t see the gesture. “What is it?” Sam asks after Dean’s heavy, exasperated sigh that lasts a lot longer than Sam thought was physically possible.

    “I was wondering if I could come over and see my nephew.” Dean says after a long silence. The older Winchester brother sounds a bit…  _Embarrassed_  asking.

    “Yeah, man. Of course. He  _is_  your nephew.” Sam says, his shock obvious in his tone. Why wouldn’t Dean be allowed to see Bobby?

    “We… Uh… We didn’t part on the best of terms. And that’s my fault. And… And I’m sorry... I didn’t know if I was welcome at your house anymore.” Dean whispers the last part, obviously shifting uncomfortably.

    “No, man. That was on me, too. C’mon over. Bobby’ll be happy to see you. He’s happy to see just about anybody besides me and (Y/N) right now.” Sam tells his brother, bouncing the giggling baby in one arm as he puts the empty bottle down.

    “Bobby?” Sam can hear the smile in Dean’s voice.

    “Yeah. He’s got green eyes like yours. Not sure how that happened.” Sam mumbles, staring into said green eyes. They aren’t Dean’s exact shade. They’re more pale and faded but still amazingly green. “Actually, they look like Mom’s.” Sam corrects himself, remembering the blonde woman he’s seen only a few times in person and from about two pictures. “I'll see you in a few, Dean.” Bobby adds on with happy burbles.


	59. Dean 5

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean being upset when the school refuses to let you, his daughter,  join football**

 

    “No, she/he doesn’t want to be a cheerleader, she/he wants to be a  _football player_.” Dean’s tone drops about five octaves, his tone becoming deadly. The receptionist shifts uncomfortably.

    “Sir, please understand. We aren’t allowed to let girls/gay boys play football. It would lead to awkward situations in the locker rooms.” The receptionist rattles off nervously, and Dean sees straight through her lie.

    “ _Bullshit_. My daughter can change in the girls locker room no problem/my son isn’t some creepy  _pervert_. What the hell is  _wrong_  with this school and this grade A sexism/homophobia?! Should I take this up with the school board? Or how about the state?” Dean threatens, his green eyes darkening a few shades as his jaw clenches in anger.

    “Mr.Winchester, that is  _enough_ -”

    “Like hell it is!” Dean shouts, cutting off the principal. “How many other girls, who are probably better than the shitty homophobes/sexists that make up your team, have you turned down? Because their parents refuse to call bullshit? I deal with liars on a daily basis, Mr.Jones. Why do you think you’re any different?” Dean questions. “I could shut down this entire  _school_ , if I needed to. But I won’t, because  _you_  are gonna let my fucking  daughter/son play on your  _goddamn football team_.”

    “Is that a threat, Mr.Winchester?” Mrs.Jones questions, her dropped tone no where near as deadly as your father’s. You look between the two adults with a smug glint in your (Y/E/C) eyes. You and your dad both know you’ve already won.

    “Technically, yes. It’s also a promise to go to the schoolboard and take you to court on this matter. Ma’am, I deal with people much worse than you every day. You don’t want to go against me.” Dean states, and Mrs.Jones’s eyes widen when she realizes your dad isn’t joking. He will actually take her and the school to court over this matter. “It’s your choice. You let my son/daughter on the football team or face charges that’ll leave you  _and_  the school bankrupt.” Dean informs the woman.

    “Alright. Okay. I understand. (Y/N) will be allowed to join the football team. Just… Do not speak of this with anyone else.” Dean smirks, saluting your principal.

    “Happy doin business with ya’.” Dean says before grabbing your arm and leaving. As soon as you’re a decent distance from the building, the both of you start cracking up.

    “Dear  _god_  dad. That was fucking amazing!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around your dad.

    “Happy to have helped. I won’t let any sexists/homophobes stop my daughter/son from doing what he/she wants.” Deam smiles at you.

    “Thank you, dad.” You smile back at him before getting into the Impala.


	60. Dean 3, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being an old friend of Sam’s and Dean had a legitimate crush on you that is suddenly reawakened when you turn up to be a hunter and on the same case as the boys, continued another time**

 

“So, your brilliant idea failed horribly. Who would’ve guessed?” You say, glaring at Dean before turning to the nearest vampire with the most done looking expression you can make. The vampire actually makes a small sound of amusement, and then you look at Dean with the same look, causing him to roll his eyes as Sam snorts.

    “Shut up, Sam.” Dean grumbles, looking around the room. “And what’s your plan, huh? If you kill us, the angels will just bring us back.” The vampire in charge scowls, crossing his arms as he looks over the three of you. This isn’t the monster you originally came here for, but you figured you’d help Sam and Dean on their hunt. Look where that’s gotten you.

    “The plan? The plan is to change you. Your angels can’t bring you back from that.” The man’s voice is deep, and it rumbles across the room like thunder. His annoyance and anger is clear in his tone.

    “No, but the archangel might be able to. And if neither of them can heal us, we do have that spell that all you fanged fucks seem to constantly forget about.” You spit the blood that welled up in your mouth at the feet of the second closest vampire. The closest one is spared because she thought your sort-of joke was funny.

    “What he/she said.” Sam nods in your direction, and the lead vampire scowls again. You feel the air shift slightly behind you, and you don’t need to look to know that either Castiel or Gabriel is behind you. Which one it is, you aren’t sure, but you can tell it’s one of them. Huge mostly gold wings fold around your person, and you know it’s Gabriel. You expect the vampires to freak out, but they can’t see the wings either. You still don’t understand why you can see the wings and others can’t, but now doesn’t seem like the best time to ask.

    You shift slightly, making your bonds easier to break. The column you’re strapped to is thick, so Gabriel isn’t seen, or somehow sensed, by the vampires. In fact, they’re completely unaware that anything is different until two heads are rolling on the floor and a blade is settled into the side of the leader’s neck. You race forwards quickly, ripping the blade out and then swinging again fluidly, ignoring the spray of blood that hits you. You quickly kill the other vampires as Gabriel sets the Winchesters free. You grab a rag from your pocket and wipe the blade free of blood, turning to Sam, Dean, and Gabriel.

    “Could’ve joined at any time.” You tell the three, and Dean gets a bit red while Gabriel smirks.

    “Where’s the fun in that?” Gabriel asks, another sucker hanging out of the corner of his mouth. This one looks root beer flavored. You roll your eyes at the archangel, and then he grabs your arm, has Dean grab Sam’s arm, and then grabs Dean’s arm and teleports to your motel room.


	62. Sam 1, 6/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam falling in love with you, and now you’re together**

 

    “Dear god, you two, get a room.” Dean groans from his spot on the chair. You look over at Dean with a raised brow, lifting your head off of Sam’s chest to do so.

    “We’re literally just cuddling.” You state as Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, snorting at Dean’s overdramatic gagging.

    “And it’s so lovey-dovey I think I’m gonna be sick.” Dean replies.

    “There are things I expect to hear from you, and then there’s ‘lovey-dovey’. I think I might be scarred.” You retort, placing a hand over your ears also overdramatically. This time it’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes, and Sam wraps an arm around you as you nearly fall off of him and off of the couch after that. Dean turns to Gabriel and makes another gagging motion, causing the short blond to roll his eyes. Only you seem to notice the way Gabriel had been looking at Dean before the hunter turned to him. You narrow your eyes a bit.

    “Don’t look at me. I’m still a pagan god. This is a lot more innocent than G to me. Nowhere  _near_  G.” Gabriel says, his tone dropping an octave as a small smirk appearing on his face. You don’t miss the red that briefly flashes across Dean’s face, but the man quickly looks away, sending Gabriel a small glare. This is interesting…

    “Yeah, what he said. Not even G yet.” You say instead of what you were about to. Dean seems pretty insecure about his sexuality, and you aren’t gonna tease him about a crush. Let alone a crush he doesn’t notice seems to be returned.

    “Shut up, (Y/N). Your love life is hurting us single people.” Dean replies, causing you to smile cheekily before kissing Sam full on.

    “Augh! My eyes!” Dean shouts.

    “Man up, Dean-o.” Gabriel responds, causing you to smirk into the kiss.


	63. Dean 2, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine your mom calls Dean Winchester, your biological father, to come and get you because she has some illness that doesn’t allow her to care for you like she needs too**

 

    “Why am I learning how to shoot again?” You ask, holding up the firearm and firing again. In the span of two weeks you’re almost as good of a shot as that one guy in a trenchcoat who appears about once every few days. You don't have the best aim, but you’re still pretty good.

    “I told you what I do is dangerous. I’m not gonna be able to keep you out of it for more than a month, so I might as well get you used to the things you’ll have to do. You’re pretty good with a knife and machete already.” Dean says.

    “I used to be in fencing. Able to harm people if needed. Also took a few things like self defense, karate, and MMA. It was fun, but I had to quit when mom got sick.” You tell Dean, reloading your gun and aiming again. “And what  _do_  you do? You still haven’t told me that yet.”

    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Dean says with a grimace, causing you to pause and glance at Dean. Oh, if only he knew the weird crap you’ve been seeing since you were three.

    “Try me. Even if I don’t believe you, I will after the first time you take me with you on whatever you do.” You say, shooting again. Another bullseye. You’re on a streak longer than any other.

    “I hunt monsters.” Dean says, causing you to stop all together. You lower your gun, turning slightly to face Dean.

    “What?”

    “I hunt monsters. You know, the things that go bump in the night. The things that cause all those deaths you hear about on the news. I don’t expect you to believe me, but-”

    “I believe you.”  
    “What?”

    “I said I believe you.” You repeat, staring at Dean. “I know what a liar looks and sounds like. You aren’t showing any signs of lying. And with all the weird ass shit that’s happened to me throughout my life is enough to convince me that humans  _definitely_  aren’t the only things on this planet.” You tell your father.

    “Huh… Wasn’t expecting that to be so easy. I hope you’re okay with doing illegal things.” Dean says.

    “This sounds like something I can do for a while.” Is how you respond.


	64. Gabriel/Dean/Castiel 1, 3/?

**Imagine Dean needs to see hellhounds again, but the glasses have an unexpected added feature; they allow Dean to see angel wings, continued again**

 

    Dean shifts in bed, frowning slightly when he can’t move until some room is made to allow him to change sides. He doesn’t register that something is different this morning until he realizes that he isn’t cold. For some reason, Dean is always freezing when he wakes up. The hunter has no clue why, but it probably has something to do with Castiel and Gabriel. Dean frowns softly, making a small sleepy noise as the heat finally registers. On both sides, there’s a generator of warmth, and then the weights on his arm, chest, and stomach registers.

    Dean cracks open a sleepy green eye, yawning and stretching slightly, but finding he’s unable to move one arm. He  _is_  sleeping on it, but he should be able to move it. Except there’s an arm underneath him with the hand resting on the mark on the hunter’s bicep. And it fits the scar perfectly. Another arm is wrapped around his stomach with the hand resting by his hip. Two other hands grip his shirt, where did the shirts other than his tank top go? Dean tenses but the amount of relaxation in the room makes it next to impossible to panic. Especially with Cas and Gabriel still there.

    “What the hell?” Dean murmurs, shifting and watching sleepily in shock as the angels do the same, making the hunter more comfortable along with the angels.

    “Go back to sleep, Dean.” Castiel’s sleep roughened voice sends a shiver down Dean’s spine, and, if Gabriel’s small smirk indicates anything, both of the angels know of the hunter’s reaction.

    “Don’t you not need to sleep?” Dean questions, his voice a few pitches deeper because of the fatigue still clouding his mind and slowing his movements.

    “There’s a difference between needing and wanting to, Dean-o. It’s…” Gabriel twists slightly, staring at the alarm clock next to Dean’s bed for a second before turning back into Dean’s chest, “six AM. I’m going back to sleep, Cas is going back to sleep, and  _you_  are going back to sleep.”

    “Mhmm.” Castiel agrees, his breath whispering against the back of Dean’s neck and causing another shiver.

    “Alright.” Dean mumbles, allowing Gabriel and Castiel to move him around as he falls back asleep.


	65. Lucifer 2, 5/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader, who happens to be a demon, is in love with Lucifer but they try to hide it by acting like they hate him, continued once again**

 

    “Okay, presents, apologies,  _maids_...” You shout, storming into the meeting room as the King of hell disintegrates another disrespectful skinwalker. You’ve gotten used to the violence after about three months of attending all of the meetings like you were expected to. “And now chocolates and flowers are showing up at my door almost every day. Lucifer, what the  _hell_?!” Pale eyes flicker over to you and the hand that had been raised to kill lowers quickly.

    “Hmm… You caught on sooner than expected.” Lucifer states, causing you to scowl a bit. Caught on? Caught on to what?

    “I haven’t  _caught on_  to anything! Please, explain to me why I suddenly have gifts all up on my doorstep. I’m  _not_  understanding what the  _hell_  you’re  _doing_!” You exclaim, throwing your arms out in emphasis. “Not to mention jewels, books, and a fea- Oh gods.” You cut yourself off, immediately catching on to what’s going on. Lucifer’s pale eyes spark with amusement as he watches your internal conflict.

    “ _There_  you go. Now you’ve caught on. I wasn't sure if  you’d understand how angels court one another, let alone how an archangel does so, but I figured you’d catch on soon enough. You’re a very intelligent being, (Y/N).” Lucifer says, approaching you.

    “What- Why me? You  _hate_  me.” You reply, backing up a bit as the King of hell stands and starts walking toward you with large strides.

    “Now, we both know that’s not quite true.” Is how the taller man  replies, still walking towards you.

    “Then why did you do all those things to scare me? All the blood and gore?” You ask, still backing up, but then you hit a wall. It doesn’t help something has closed around the room, making it impossible to teleport away.

    “The queen/king of hell can’t be soft, now can he/she?” And then his mouth is on yours.


	66. Winchester Brothers 4, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam and Dean’s faces as you save their asses after being dead for three years, continued again**

 

    “So, what are you guys hunting now?” You ask, walking into the motel Sam and Dean rented. Dean spins around, his gun aimed at you, but he drops it as soon as he sees it’s you. You hold up the coffee you brought for the Winchesters as a peace offering, and you smirk a bit at the relieved sigh that escapes Sam. “Been workin hard, Sammy?”

    “You have no idea.” Sam mutters his reply, and you look at him a with a small glare before turning the glare on Dean.

    “No. I wouldn’t have any idea. Maybe because you tried to dump me at Bobby’s place and act like I wouldn’t notice that you left in the morning.” You say, clenching your jaw a bit as your glare hardens at the guilty looks you receive. They know that they messed up, but none of them apologize.

    “It’s the  _apocalypse_ , (Y/N). We don’t know who hell is gonna send up here to attend this shit storm. I  _know_  for a  _fact_  that Alistair is up here somewhere. The dude still almost sends  _me_  into shock. I was only down there for a few  _months._  You were down there for three  _years_. We don’t know what seeing him will do to you. You don’t even know what seeing him will do to you.” Dean says, causing you to scowl openly.

    “I’ll gut the fucker.” You state, causing Dean to grimace. Sam just looks a bit worried, causing a bit of confusion.

    “That’s what I thought, too. A few sarcastic phrases were all I could manage to choke out the first time I saw him. Nearly fuckin wet myself, not gonna lie. Second time? Tortured him, the worst ways I could think of. Literally from my dreams. But how easy it was to torture him, that was terrifying. That was terrifying because I was turning into what he wanted me to be. What I was in hell. I won’t let you end up like that.” Dean says, and your scowl softens to almost non existence.

    “How easy was it?” You ask because you want to know what kind of monster you’ll turn into when you see Alastair. You want to know how fucked up you’re going to get when you lay eyes on the demon who lead you to torture with promise to end your own. Because you want to know how much danger Sam and Dean are going to be in when you get your hands on that slimy demon bastard.

    “It was the easiest thing in the world.” Dean says seriously, pale as he remembers torturing the demon. “It was like I was doing fucking yoga or some shit. Like a relaxing drug. When I realized he escaped, I wanted to torture anybody I could get my hands on. I’m lucky that I was stopped.” Dean says, and you frown before turning and going into the bathroom to splash cold water on your face, trying to calm down.


	67. Team Free Will 1, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Team Free Will taking care of the reader, a little boy/girl, continued yet again**

 

    When you wake up the motel you and Uncles Sammy, Dean, and Cas is dancing with orange red and yellow. The wood above the bed you’re in is turning a pretty black with orange flecks in it, and there’s smoke swirling around the entire room like a dancer’s ribbon. You used to be in dance, before Daddy made you get out of it. You don’t know why he did that, you and Mommy both liked dance a lot. Mommy used to be a dancer, she was really pretty. “(Y/N)! (Y/N) where are you?!” Uncle Dean shouts, and you yawn before sitting up. You aren’t under your blankets, but it’s really hot in the room.

    “(Y/N)!” Uncle Cas shouts, his deep voice echoing around the burning motel.

    “Uncle Cas? Uncle Dean? Uncle Sammy?” You shout back, looking around. You can hear their voices but you can’t see them. Where are they? “Where are you?”

    “Oh god, he’s/she’s still in the room!” Uncle Sammy shouts, and there’s a pounding on the bathroom door. You get out of bed and wander over to the door, opening it and finding nothing. You don’t really notice the huge burning beam that falls onto your bed, exactly where you were previously.

    “(Y/N).” Lucifer says calmly behind you. You turn around, seeing that the blonde/ginger man is actually touchable when you make the motion to be picked up. The archangel bends down and picks you up gently, carefully navigating his way out of the room. When you get into the hallway Lucifer swears quietly before breaking into a sprint, the hallway burning and collapsing behind him. When you reach the end of the hallway Lucifer slams into a window, breaking through it and flying towards the ground.

    “Is that?” You hear Uncle Sammy when Lucifer hits the ground, unharmed from the hard impact. He looks you over carefully before putting you down. Uncle Dean rushes over to you and picks you up, holding you close to him.

    “Oh thank god.” Uncle Dean murmurs, holding you against his chest.

    “Not quite.” Lucifer says as Uncle Sammy walks through him.

    “Thank you, Lucifer.” Cas murmurs, staring in the general area of your archangel guardian.

    “Of course, protecting (Y/N)  _is_  my job.” Is how Lucifer replies. Then the firemen come over to check on everybody. About an hour later you fall back asleep, Lucifer sitting next to you protectively with his arms crossed.


	68. Sam 3, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam spending time with his son, continued**

 

    “So… Where’s (Y/N)?” Dean asks, staring at the baby burbling happily in his arms. His green eyes flick up to look at Sam when the younger Winchester doesn’t respond.

    “On a hunt. He/She/They felt like he/she/they needed to catch up on lost time. I mean, he/she/they were/was out of it for a few months, man. It’s been a long time since his/her/their last hunt.” Sam says, his eyes staring at Bobby. The Winchester isn’t afraid to admit that he’s scared of being a parent. He doesn’t want to end up like John. He doesn’t want to be that dad that forces all the joy out of his son’s life.

    “Feel nervous about him/her/them?” Dean asks, just curious. He hasn’t seen his brother since he decided to have a kid. That argument had been bad.

    “Nah. He/She can handle himself/herself.” Sam replies, wondering if Dean even notices that he’s humming “Hey Jude” as he bounces Bobby. Sam also isn’t sure if Bobby realises he’s falling asleep.

    “It’s good that you trust him/her so much.” Dean says, resuming his humming so soon that Sam knows that Dean isn’t aware of what he’s doing. His brothers eyes are softer than he can remember ever seeing them, and Bobby is falling asleep much faster than he does when Sam tries to tire him out.

    “It isn’t about trust. He/She just has the right amount of skill. I wouldn’t have let him/her go on the hunt if I knew he/she couldn’t handle it.” Sam replies as Bobby grabs fistfulls of Dean’s shirt. “I almost forgot you have experience with this.”

    “With what?” Dean asks.

    “With kids. Babies.” Sam says, “I didn’t raise myself, and Dad didn’t really help that much when I was growing up.”

    “Shut up.” Dean murmurs, staring don at Bobby. The little kid  _does_  have his mom’s eyes. The exact shade. and they look exactly the same in different lightings. Sam smiles as Bobby falls asleep, cradled against Dean’s chest and snoring softly.

    “You’re proud, admit it. I can see it.” Sam says with a smirk, causing Dean to scowl at his little brother.

    “Bite me.” Dean says, and Sam’s smirk widens into an actual smile.


	69. Destiel 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being Cas’ little sister (only by two years, not that much younger!) and you know he has a crush on the boy he tutors, Dean Winchester**

 

    “So is Loverboy coming over tonight or are you going to his house?” You ask casually from the couch, smirking as Cas chokes on his drink.

    “What?” Cas manages to get out between coughs. You turn to him, (Y/E/C) eyes glinting mischievously.

    “Loverboy. Dean Winchester. The green eyed hunk that you tutor.” You say, using the terms you  _know_  are gonna embarrass your brother. Cas stares at you with wide blue eyes, red slowly traveling up his neck to his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s caught onto your crush yet. How he’s managed to do that is  _way_  beyond my comprehension. Funny how your face is always “sunburned” when you go to tutor him or when he comes here.” You continue, smirk growing as Castiel gets redder and redder.

    “He’s coming here.” Cas mutters, not even trying to tell you off because it’s well past the point of denial in this conversation.

    “Wonderful. I’ll make the snacks and the drinks, you go upstairs and bring down all your shirts. Wear a pair of well fitting black jeans. Your favorite pair. Makes it look like you actually have an ass.” You say, ducking when you brother throws a nearby pillow at you. “Faster! We don’t have a lot of time. It’s already…” You glance at a clock. “Four. Dude is gonna be here in thirty minutes. Probably less. He puts that car to good use.” You say and Cas flies up the stairs quickly.

    “These are all I have.” Cas mutters as he puts his shirts down on the couch. You stop pouring the drinks as the oven goes off. You pull out the treats, along with chips and dip, before wandering into the living room. You look over each shirt carefully as Cas stands next to you awkwardly without a shirt on. Eventually you choose a black button up.

    “Put this on with your black tie. Hurry up. I hear the engine.” Cas throws on the shirt and tie, and you look him up and down.

    “Roll up your sleeves,.” You say, running your hand through his hair quickly. “He’s here.”


	70. Sam 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine cuddling with Sam after a hunt and Dean teases you two, causing pillows to fly**

 

    “Augh! Really? Get a room.” Dean says as he walks in. You raise a brow and glance at Sam who’s looking at his brother with bitch face number whatever.

    “We’re just cuddling.” Sam says, raising an eyebrow slowly as his brother clutches at his heart dramatically.

    “What’da’you against cuddling?” You ask, watching the hunter stumble to the chair and fall on it in a show of how similar the two brothers are.

    “Cuddling leads to kissing. Kissing leads to making out. Making out leads to sex, and I happen to like that couch.” Dean says, a smirk growing on his face as he watches both of you get uncomfortable. “So, get a room.” Dean finishes, turning back to the TV. You glance at Sam, not exactly liking the look on his face. But then you see him holding his pillow up a bit. You then make eye contact with the much taller man.

    “Are you thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin?” You ask, also raising your pillow. You glance at Dean, who’s entirely unaware, and then back at Sam.

    “Hell yeah I am.” Sam mutters back before raising his pillow and reeling back. You do the same thing and you both chuck your pillows at the older Winchester brother at the same time.

    “Hey!” Dean shouts, running out of the room with a trail of pillows following him.


	71. Dean 6

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being on a date with Dean and Cas interrupts**

 

    “Welcome… What would you like to… Drink?” The italian waiter was obviously having problems speaking english.

    “Uh… Hold on a minute.” Dean says, glancing at the waitress, who clearly didn’t understand what he said, when he doesn’t leave. “Er… Aspetta un minuto.” Dean says, this time in Italian. Which shocks both you and your waiter.

    “Va bene , sarò ancora in giro in pochi minuti.” The waiter says before going to another table. You turn to Dean in surprise.

    “I didn’t know you spoke Italian.” You say, (Y/E/C) boring into Dean’s green pair. The hunter pulls at the collar of his shirt before unbuttoning the top three buttons.

    “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Is how Dean replies, adding in a wink for good measure. You roll your eyes with a laugh, leaning back and clapping sarcastically.

    “I bet that got you all the ladies/men.” You say, still smiling softly as you lean away. You look around as the waiter comes back.

    “There’s only one who matters.” Dean replies with another wink that leaves you blushing as he talks with the waiter. “Due fragola limonata e due bistecche servito con pasta e broccoli, per favore.” Dean orders, turning back to you with a smile when the waiter leaves. “So I was thinking-”

    “Dean.” A familiar deep voice cuts the hunter off and makes you jump, considering you still aren’t used to the whole ‘angels pop around wherever they want’ thing. “I need your help.” Dean’s smirk is gone, replaced by a frown.

    “Dammit, Cas. What do you need?” Dean’s voice is thick with annoyance, and you frown slightly at the angel.

    “It’s Sam.” Is all the angel has to say. Then both you and Dean are on your feet. Dean looks at you with wide eyes and you look back at him. He then looks back at Cas then back at you.

    “(Y/N) I’m so sorry.” Dean says, but you’re nodding already. Then you shake your head.

    “No. no it’s okay. It’s fine.” You say, barely managing to stop your voice from shaking. Dean thanks you about fifty times before Cas grabs his arm. You stare at them, knowing that something odd is going on. Sure enough, huge wings unfurl from Dean’s back before Cas teleports him away.


	72. Crowley 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**I’m not exactly sure what to put here…**

 

    It started when he stopped speaking english when talking directly to you. Whenever you caught on to which language he was speaking he would switch again, and now you have no clue what the King of Hell is speaking. A mix of French, Italian, and something else. After he started speaking different languages came the touches. Nothing big at first, just a few stray touches that could easily have been passed off as a mistake.

    But then the demon got more and more daring. Instead of seemingly innocent touches lasted more than a few seconds. A brush across your shoulder ends up going down your spine. You almost hadn’t noticed, because he very easily did what he planned to. He practically trained you to be used to his touches. It was only pointed out to you by an angry Castiel, who noticed what was going on when you didn’t wince away from a hand on the back of your neck. You hadn’t even noticed it. But when Castiel started shouting you became hyper aware of the warm hand on your neck and the demon reading over your shoulder.

    And now, again, you’re entirely unaware of the hand on your shoulder and the other on your neck as Crowley moves around behind you.


	73. Destiel 2, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being Cas’ little sister (only by two years, not that much younger!) and you know he has a crush on the boy he tutors, Dean Winchester, continued**

 

    You’re all the way in your living room you can hear Cas stuttering. You stretch and sit up, yawning slightly as you look at the door. You raise a brow at Dean’s smirk. A smirk you know he wears only when he’s flirting. Well well well, isn’t this interesting. “C-Come in.” Cas invites, and Dean smiles, flashing white teeth straighter than he is, as he walks past your brother. You don’t miss the way his green eyes flicker down to look at the back of Castiel’s pants, which causes you to smirk. He then looks at Castiel’s rolled up sleeves and looks around. When Cas turns away he raises an eyebrow at you.

    “Did you dress him?” Dean mouths in your direction, causing you to smirk. When you nod confirmation Dean turns a bit to look your brother up and down before giving you an almost unnoticeable thumbs up. He then hikes his bag up higher on his shoulder and follows your brother into your homework room. Originally it was supposed to be a dining room, but your parents are never home. Ever. So you just eat in the front room with Castiel. Good shows are on when you and Cas eat. Dean and Cas’s voices rumble around the room in quiet tones, Cas never failing to stutter. “Where’s your bathroom?” You hear Dean ask. Soon after the tall man walks past the living room.

    “Hey.” You say calmly, glancing away from the TV. Dean waves at you as he passes, motioning behind him as he does so.

    “Your brother is hot.” Dean says in a mumble, barely quiet enough for Cas not to feel. You smile slightly, looking back at the room. “Also, you have a good sense in style. Good job.” Then the man is out of the room, leaving you to check out his backside. Those back muscles and booty are insane. Your brother has an amazing taste in men. You wonder how the Winchester will react to Cas's tattoos.


	74. Dean 6, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being on a date with Dean and Cas interrupts, continued**

 

    It was halfway through the next day when you started feeling weird. You haven’t heard from Dean, but you figured what happened to him happened to Sam, and that’s why he suddenly grew wings for some reason. But now something is wrong with you. Your insides are flipped constantly, and even after eating three times as much as you normally do you’re still starving. “Sam? I swear to God if somebody doesn’t answer my calls.” You cuss loudly as another wave of pain shoots through you.

    “(Y/N)?” Cas mutters from the other room as you collapse in pain, all shooting towards your back like poisoned arrows. “(Y/N)?” Cas calls louder.

    “(Y/N)! Where are you?” Sam shouts after you let out a scream of pain. “Cas, in here!” The Winchester shouts as he opens the door to the room you’re in. He picks you up quickly, kicking open the door as it closes. Cas swears as he sees you and quickly places a hand against your chest, taking away the pain and knocking you out.

***

    “(Y/N)? What happened to him/her?!” Dean shouts his heavy yet quiet footsteps approaching you quickly. You frown into a pillow, wondering why you’re on your stomach until the nerve endings finish connecting. Then you’re rushed with feelings as wings perk up in fear on your back. You sit up, spinning around and staring at the three men in the room. Dean stands closest to you, huge dark brown (almost black) wings folded across his backs. When your wings flare out, though, Dean’s do the same, ending up much larger than yours. Or Sam’s white wings, or Castiel’s navy blue wings. You look around, eyes flickering over your own charcoal colored wings briefly. They’re a lot shades lighter than Sam’s, but still obviously black.

    “Dean?” You whisper, your voice shaking with just one word. Dean’s wings are still splayed out when he approaches you slowly, his hands held up in a surrendering position. Hiis wings don’t look very surrendering, though, but you don’t think he can stop that. “What’s going on?”

    “Yeah, Cas. What the hell  _is_  going on?” Dean asks, not turning away from you. His green eyes are still locked on your (Y/E/C) pair.

    “Something went out through the major vessels, turning them into angels themselves.” Castiel says, casuing everybody to tense up.

    “But why did  _he/she_  get turned?” Dean asks, voice hard as he stares at you with much softer eyes.

    “Because you two are soulmates, Dean.”


	75. Dean 7

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Gabe is your big brother and Dean starts flirting with you**

 

    You glance up when you feel Gabriel approaching, his Grace’s aura hitting you long before he’s actually in the room. The blonde man appears in the door and makes his way over to you pretty quickly. “Find anything yet?” Gabriel asks, not looking away from the book he’s flipping through. You know that he’s reading every word on every page, even at the speed he’s flipping at. Perks of being an archangel, you guess. You hear more footsteps coming in your direction, and they’d be quiet to humans, but you aren’t human and these footsteps are no where near as silent as Gabriel’s.

    “Find anything yet? Oh, hey (Y/N).” Sam greets, causing you to give a small wave to the hunter.

    “Hey Sam. And no. Gabriel hasn’t found anything either.” You tell the Winchester before continuing your reading, flipping through the large book almost as fast as Gabe can. Lighter footsteps head in your direction, and you assume the man in the doorway is Dean Winchester. You haven’t met him before, but you’ve heard a lot about him from Sam, Cas, and Gabe.

    “Have you guys found anything ye- Who is he/she?” Dean stops halfway through the room, book in one hand and a beer in the other.

    “Him/her/Them? That’s Gabriel’s sister/brother/sibling. He’s/She’s/They’re around here a lot, I’m surprised you haven’t met him/her/them yet.” Sam says. “(Y/N), this is Dean, my brother. Dean, this is (Y/N), a half archangel half normal angel.”

    “I just got a bit more mojo than normal angels. Nothing really special.” You answer the unasked question when Dean looks at you. Green eyes roam up and down your body as your (Y/E/C) pair do the same to the hunter’s.

    “Hey, I know a room in the bunker with an amazing bed. What’da’you say we go there and-” Dean get’s cut off by two people at once.

    “Dean!” Sam shouts, face getting red.

    “Absolutely not!” Gabriel sing songs from somewhere further back in the library at the same time. Dean raises a brow at the same time you do. When he glances back at you, you wink at him slyly before turning back to your book.


	76. Destiel 2, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being Cas’ little sister (only by two years, not that much younger!) and you know he has a crush on the boy he tutors, Dean Winchester, continued again**

 

    You’re about to beat the shit out of a senior when Dean turns the corner, taking one look at your brother, who’s on the floor with one hand on his face and the other on his gut, and joining you as you get right into Crowley’s face. The british prick hadn’t liked something Castiel had said, something probably completely true, so he punched him. Then kneed him. Then slammed his head down onto his leg. And you’re damn well hoping you’ll be able to return the favor, along with Dean. The Winchester looks willing to do so, anyways, so it won’t take very much convincing.

    “What the hell is your problem!” Dean shouts, already shoving the shorter man back. He makes a motion for you to check on your brother and you do so quickly. There are tears welling up in his very blue eyes and bruises are already forming. God, he’s gonna have two black eyes. You almost forget that Dean is screaming at Crowley until there’s a loud bang and you turn to see Dean pinning Crowley to the lockers behind him, one arm on his throat.

    “Get off of me!” Crowley shouts angrily, some spit flying from his mouth and onto Dean’s face. You make a disgusted face but Dean keeps his anger strong.

    “Don’t you  _ever_  touch him again.  _Ever_! Do I make myself clear, you useless piece of shit?” Dean shouts. When Crowley nods he punches him then kicks him between the legs, and then he drops him to the floor. He turns around, facing the crowd that had formed. “None of you insult, injure, or even  _shove_  Castiel Novak. Understand?” The crowd nods, eyes wide as they watch the usually chill football and soccer star loose his shit. “Good. Now scram, or you’ll be late to your classes.” And with that the crowd disperses. Dean walks over to you and your brother, shushing Cas as he makes a small whining sound.

    “Dean?” He asks, blue eyes focusing enough to stare at his crush. You very nearly roll your eyes, but you decide at the last minute that now isn’t a good time to do so. Dean’s face softens considerably when he looks at your brother.

    “The one and only. C’mon, let’s get you to the nurse’s office.” Dean says before picking Castiel up. “Go to class, (Y/N). I got this.” You stare at Dean for a little while before nodding slowly and walking to your next class. You cuss and start jogging when the bell rings.


	77. Sam 5

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine trying to finish a project for school but your boyfriend, Sam Winchester, wants attention**

 

    “Sam Winchester I swear to  _god_.” You threaten, shoving your boyfriend away again as he reaches for your hips. You roll your eyes at the pathetic noise the Winchester makes, but ignore it and go back to coloring in the huge sketches on large pieces of paper.

    “But (Y/N) I’m boooorrreeeddd.” Sam whines. stretching out your name as if that would change your mind. All it gets is a raised brow that he can’t see and definitely not your attention. You turn slightly, coloring in another drawing.

    “Hi bored, I’m failing social studies. Unless, of course, I get this freaking project done.” You reply, ignoring Sam as his hands settle on your waist again. Sam groans overdramatically, causing you to roll your eyes  _again_. You ignore your boyfriend when he wraps his arms around you instead, and then rests his head on your shoulder.

    "You can do it later." Sam mumbles into your neck. You raise a brow at the Winchester, still coloring in your project.

    "You can do  _me_ later." You respond, knowing exactly what Sam is trying to do. You, in no way, are against that course of actions, but you're trying to do the project. That if you get an A on will bring your F up to a C+. Sam snorts behind you, trying not to laugh too loudly so he doesn’t disturb your coloring and shading. He’s already learned what that gets him. When the Winchester continues messing around behind you, you let out an annoyed noise and pull Sam into a deep kiss. You break it off again before anything else starts.

    “Now shut up and wait for me to finish this damn project, Sam.” You mumble, continuing to glue things onto a huge poster board.

    “...Fine.” Sam grumbles, standing and going onto the couch. It’s much easier to ignore the TV than your determined boyfriend.


	78. Crowley 5

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them**

 

    You know you’re probably gonna die when one of the people attacking you has his eyes change entirely to black before he flings you across the huge room. You don’t even bother trying not to scream as you fly through the air. You hit the far wall and then the floor, breaking at least your ankle and your arm. Probably a few ribs, too. “Boss!” The man who threw you sounds surprised, and when you look up his black eyes are dark brown again. You wince when a hand rests on your shoulder.

    “And  _what_ , exactly,  _are_  you doing?” The man, the person’s boss, asks, his tone dark and his accent heavy. You feel a rush of something akin to adrenaline rush through you, and suddenly there’s no more pain shooting up from your arm or your leg or your stomach.

    “Just playin’ around. Finished our job early.” The man holds up what looks like a sharp dagger, and you recoil quickly, hitting somebody’s legs as you turn so you’re sitting upright. The hand doesn’t move from your shoulder, but you’re too drained to move away from it. From the strength behind the grip the man has on you, you aren’t sure you’d be able to move away anyways.

    “And you didn’t think that, maybe, I’d want that dagger as soon as possible? The Winchesters are bound to appear any minute now, and with you messing around with the local humans they’d be brought here by his/her/their screaming.  _Morons_!” The man growls, his hand tightening on your shoulder a bit before relaxing again. “Hand it over.”

    “Here, sir.” The man is much more quiet. Scared. You find out why a few seconds later when the dagger in a gloved hand is plunged into the man’s stomach. The man lets out a strangled cry when the dagger is twisted. Something orange flashes behind his skin, and the man starts falling. The hand with the dagger catches him  before he falls.

    “Now that that’s over…” The man trails off, wiping the blood from the blade off on the dead man’s shirt, but then the man behind you lets the body drop to the floor with a heavy  _thud_. You make a panicked sound when the hand around your shoulder tenses as the man starts to pick you up. “Relax, Love. I’ve got you.” The man says.

     _Because that’s reassuring._  You think before the world goes black and you pass out.


	79. Michael/Reader/Lucifer 1, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader, a rebellious angel who knew Michael and Lucifer in the past, is alive during the apocalypse, and when Michael and Lucifer hear that the reader still lives, they chase the reader down and try to court them, continued**

 

    “I didn’t want to force this onto you, (Y/N).” Michael says, approaching you and snapping his shirt away. His white-blue grace explodes to life in front of you, causing you to force your wings as far behind you as you physically can. He was going to force you to bond him. You  _can’t_  let the white-blue touch the gold running across your black wings. Lucifer does the same, a maroon colored aura shooting out of him. You can see by the faint tint in both of the angel’s graces that they’re already bonded. Yeah, you’re fucked. “I really didn’t. But we can’t let you escape. We’ve been looking for you for millennia. You’re very sneaky.” You almost miss the black markings that cover the sides of Michael’s chest.

    “Courting you and it ending like expected would’ve been much preferable.” Lucifer agrees. Both of the archangels approach you equally distanced, making you effectively trapped. Your blade will do nothing, you are by no means anywhere near as strong or fast as them, and running past them would cause your grace to combine with at least one of theirs. “I don’t understand why you decided to skip out on the designated bonding session. We were very disappointed. However, we knew we would get you eventually.”

    “Maybe because you’re power hungry freaks?” You offer one of the reasons you skipped on the bonding session. Michael raises a brow in synch with Lucifer.

    “I won’t disagree with the power hungry part.” Lucifer says, causing you to scowl. The archangel never was one to lie. Even to himself.

    “Maybe slightly. I’m not so sure about the freak part.” MIchael says. A smirk flashes across his face before he launches himself at you. You race forwards, but that seems to be exactly what the two wanted.

    “Where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer asks, stepping in front of you and grabbing you. He holds you still as Michael approaches behind you. Since you aren’t exactly a happy participant in the bonding, you’re knocked unconscious as soon as Michael’s grace touches yours.


	80. Crowley 5, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued**

 

    “Relax.” An accented voice orders from behind you when you wake up in a panic. There’s a warm cloth against your forehead, and you immediately feel the chain around your ankle. You shoot upwards, groaning as a headache hits you full force, throbbing in time with your racing heart. A somewhat short man is laying on a comfortable bed in the center of the room a few feet away from you. Brown eyes flicker towards you, and the man sighs in exasperation before closing his book and sitting up.

    “Where am I?” You ask in a trembling tone, (Y/E/C) eyes wide, (Y/H/C) hair disheveled, and your chest heaving with each shaky breath. The man puts his book next to him, and holds his hands up as he approaches you. You scramble away from him, but he just pulls a chair up in front of you.

    “Want me to be honest?” The man asks, causing you to stare at him like he’s crazy. He rolls his light brown eyes.

    “No shit, Sherlock!” You shout, the fear racing through your body causing the filter you usually use when you speak to just up and leave. The man rolls his eyes, uncaring for the rude words.

    “You’re in Hell.”

    “What?” You ask, laughing almost hysterically until you notice the man doesn’t look humored. “Oh, gods. You aren’t kidding.”

    “Obviously not, Love.” The man says, causing you to grimace at the ‘nickname’. You lean against the wall heavily.

    “Who are you, anyways?”

    “Crowley. The king of Hell.”


	81. Crowley 5, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued again**

 

    “I’m so fucked.” You say, uncaring that you voice your thoughts. Crowley’s lips twitch at one end in amusement, the same emotion sparking in his eyes.

    “Not necessarily.” Crowley says, causing you to flinch at his tone. His eyes flicker to watch the movement, a full blown smirk appearing on his lips.

    “This won’t be good for me, will it?” You ask, causing Crowley’s head to tilt slightly in amusement again. He’s looking at you like you’re a kitten trying to jump up too high or too far.

    “You won’t loose anything too important.” Crowley says, his head still tilted as he watches you. He must see it click in your mind, because actual amusement flashes across his face.

    “My soul. You want to make a deal, don’t you. And I’m not gonna be able to say no, will I?” You ask.

    “You’re fast, Love.” Crowley says, making you scowl and move as far away from the man as possible. “It’s not that bad. You’re in Hell anyways. Just your soul for protection, and then in five years you’re mine.”

    “Mine how?” You ask, still leaning a ways away from the demon sitting too close for your comfort. Crowley shrugs.

    “However I want.”

    “And if I don’t agree to this?” You ask. Crowley grins, more like flashes his teeth, and something evil flashes in his eyes.

    “Then I throw you into the cage and see how long you last until you break.” The man says.

    “The cage?” That sounds like a much better option.

    “Where Michael and Lucifer are trapped.” Oh.


	82. Castiel 6

_Yo, should I start making these longer?_

 

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Castiel being fascinated by your tattoos**

 

    You’ve been noticing the angel staring at you more and more recently. Not at your face, or even your body, but the markings and colors that cover your arms and back and neck seem to interest the angel. Sometimes he doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s staring. Sometimes his eyes will trace the quotes along your ribs while you get bandaged, sometimes they’ll linger on your wrists where dark feathers sit gracefully. The ones that you catch the angel continuously looking at, even when clothes cover it, are the angel wings on your back. Huge, black masses of glossy feathers that have silver dripping down them to nowhere.

    “Hello, (Y/N).” Castiel greets behind you, causing you to jump. You turn slightly, fixing up the bandages on your chest. On the last hunt, a werewolf, you got beat up pretty badly. The worst wound probably was the four huge gashes across your chest.

    “Hey, Cas.” You greet, noticing that, once again, Castiel’s attention is on your tattoos. This time he seems focused intently on the arm that looks like it’s covered in shining black armor. What can you say? You look good in black. His electric stare traces the small red anti-possession mark on the top of the armor, like an insignia. “You can touch them, Cas.” You sigh. You’ve told the angel that he can do so a while ago, but he always seems content staring at the sharp swirls and the blurry colors that cover your skin like you’re a masterpiece made by Michelangelo.

    “Are you sure?” Castiel asks like usual. You roll your eyes, nodding as you turn on the TV. Cas appears on the couch next to you, and you lean against the warrior of heaven as his fingers trace your ‘armor’. You sigh as his fingers graze your neck and go to your back. He may not realize it, but this is basically yoga for you. It’s also a massage when his hands trace over the wings on your back. You rest your head against Castiel’s chest, getting a surprised sound from the dark haired man. He pauses in his movements until you’re comfortable before continuing again.

    This has become a regular thing. Almost a scheduled thing. Castiel appears about once every two weeks just to relax and watch TV with you. Sure, the moving pictures on the decent sized screen in the bunker don’t really interest him, but the still pictures that cover your skin sure do. As you fall asleep again Cas continues what he’s doing until he’s sure you’re in deep sleep. After that he gently picks you up and turns off the TV. Instead of teleporting to your room, which is what you assume he does, he silently walks down the halls of the bunker until he gets to your room. He takes his time covering you with your blankets, but he’s fast while changing you because he’s unsure as to how you’d feel about him manually doing so.


	83. Team Free Will and Angels 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Christmas with the Angels and Team Free Will**

 

    You shift in your seat, the folders in your hands feeling heavy as you stare at the huge boxes in the room. Even though you put a lot of work and effort and care into your presents, you feel like they’re stupid and dull compared to the things that’ll probably be in those huge boxes surrounding the tree. Of course, there are small things attached to each of the drawings in the folders, but still. Those boxes are huge.

    “Want some eggnog?” Dean asks you, a hand resting on your shoulder. He glances at your folders and smiles at you, reassuring you a bit. You’ve been working on these all year. There’s at least fifteen drawings in each folder.

    “Yeah.” You reply. Dean nods before leaning off of the couch and heading to the kitchen. You shift over on the couch as everybody starts crowding into the room. It’s obvious that everybody wants to open their presents. You hand everybody their folders somewhat shakily as they pass, getting reassuring smiles from each of them as they notice your nervousness.

    “Dean! Get your ass in here!” Gabriel calls, and Dean’s middle finger appears before the rest of him does, your eggnog in one hand. Dean hands you the drink as you give him his folder. The hunter vaults over the back of the couch and lands between you and Sam. Castiel makes a face as he’s forced to the side by Sam moving because of Dean.

    “I’m opening (Y/N)’s first.” Balthazar states, opening his folder. As soon as one of the drawings falls out everybody practically drops their bigger presents to open their folders. There’s the sound of lots of shuffling paper as everybody looks through their drawings. Wide eyes continuously snap between you and the drawings.

    “(Y/N), holy shit!” Gabriel shouts, holding up the very realistic drawing of him in a suit of armor, huge brown wings behind him along with headphones around his neck casually. Dean holds up one of the most realistic drawings you drew, holding it up to his face to show how exact of a copy it is.

    “(Y/N) what the fuck? How are you able to do this? What the  _fuck_.” Sam says, flipping through his drawings. You just let a small smile flash across your face as the others in the room start looking at all of their drawings, completely ignoring the much larger boxes for the time being. Instead, they show the others their drawings in shock.


	84. Dean 8

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine you and Dean are stuck in a freezer after a hunt goes wrong, and you have to cuddle with the hunter (who you grudgingly like but you think he hates you) to keep warm**

 

    “Son of a bitch!” Dean shouts, slamming his fists on the freezer door. You jump a bit, but the same amount of anger and adrenaline is rushing through you still. You and Dean have been trapped in this stupid freezer for about half an hour now, and the hunting clothes you wore aren’t exactly made for this weather. “What the hell are they doing?!”

    “Prob-Prob-Probably-bly trying t-t-to freeze us t-t-to death-th.” You say, trembling, You’re  _much_  smaller than the hunter in the room, barely getting to his shoulder while in your combat boots. Dean turns away from the door he’s been staring at for the past half hour to finally look at you. He takes in your shaking with narrowed green eyes and a small frown. You jump and back up a few paces when he starts walking towards you. “Wha-Wha-Wha-What the he-hell do you-ou think you-you’re doing-ng?” You stutter, hitting an ice cold wall and jumping forwards, almost running into Dean.

    “You’re freezing.” Dean frowns, still approaching.

    “N-N-N-no sh-sh-sh-shit Sher-Sher-Sher-Sherlock.” You manage to force out between clattering teeth. Dean rolls his eyes as you don’t pick up on what he’s saying. You don’t realize what the hunter is doing until you’re being held up and pressed against his chest. The hunter slowly sits down against the one bare wall in the room, wrapping his large coat around you and adding warmth from all sides. “H-H-H-How are you no-no-no-not fre-fre-fre-freezing-ng?” You mutter, lips turning blue until you turn your head into the coat.

    “Extra layers and a thick jacket. It’s a Winchester thing, I guess.” Dean mumbles back. You can feel his chest vibrate when he speaks and you can hear his heartbeat when he stops.

    “Like the plaid and the flannels?” You ask, feeling Dean’s chest rise and fall quickly when he snorts.

    “Maybe the flannel thing. Sam wears a lot more plaid than I do.”


	85. Balthazar 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Balthazar meets the reader, a hunter, and immediately falls for him/her/them**

 

    “What the hell are these things?!” One of the women in the room shouts. You turn to them with a look of bewilderment, unbelieving of how stupid the brunette.

    “Zombies.” Sam grunts from his side of the room, leaning against a door to stop the walking dead from making it into the room. Dean shoots you an exasperated look, and almost everybody else in the room seems to be as annoyed as you are.

    “Don’t worry, they eat brains. I’m pretty sure you’re safe.” You say, growling as more pressure is put against your door. Animalistic screams sound outside your door, causing your skin you crawl and more adrenaline to shoot through you.

    “Do you really think now is the time to be sarcastic?” The woman shouts, causing more zombies to scream on the other side of the door.

    “Being sarcastic is one of the many services I offer. Right up there with saving your asses as long as you  _shut your fucking mouth_.” You growl, shifting to lock your body in a sturdy position with your back against the door. Said door shakes dangerously as hands slam against it, mindless hunger driving them. A blonde man approaches you, helping you keep the door closed as it’s obvious your door is getting the most attention.

    “We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die and I’m gonna look awful at my funeral and this room  _stinks_  and-”

    “Shut the hell up. Stop complaining. You are literally going to bring the walking dead upon us.” Dean cuts the woman off.

    “Somebody shut her up.” Sam calls from his door. The blonde man next to you shifts, allowing you to ease up. As soon as you see that he’s got it you calmly approach the woman, Then punch her as hard as you can. Her head snaps to the side before she collapses. Absolutely nobody seems against the action, so you just rub your hand against your shirt before returning to the door.

    “Thank you.” The blonde man grunts, shifting again to face you. “Nice to meet you.” He holds out a hand. You shake it.

    “(Y/N).” You introduce.

    “Balthazar.” The man replies with a small smile, and then all hell breaks loose on Sam’s side of the room.


	86. Crowley 5, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued again again**

 

    Of course you choose to go to the cage. Yes, you understand that you’ll probably die, but better that than to damn yourself for eternity after only a few years. You’re beginning to hesitate when you walk down the halls to the cage. You stop in front of a large cage, a ball of light and a mass of darkness festering in opposite corners. You think of toddlers trying to ignore eachother, but the image fades quickly as the door opens. A dagger is pressed to your back, and you’re forced into the cage. The door closes behind, and the lightness and darkness  turn to look at you.

    The dark mass shifts and changes shades and colors, turning into a ginger/blonde man with pale eyes and wider shoulders. The pale eyes flicker over your features, narrowed dangerously as the man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. When the man moves the smoke swirling around him follows the movements closely, You take a step back when the ginger/blonde man approaches, causing him to pause and look at you even more closely. His narrowed eyes widen a tad. Masses of black behind the man, and only then do you realize that the masses are six huge black wings.

    The cage is filled with a flash of light and another man stands where the solid light had been hovering. The sturdy frame the light had looked like now has features. Light blue eyes, dark hair, and a strong jawline. His eyes also take in your features, but he doesn’t move from his spot. Glowing white wings unfurl from his back. He also has six huge wings that are held close to his body.

    “What’s the meaning of this? Why is there a human in here?” The dark haired man’s voice is deep and his gaze is flickering from you to the man. Lucifer. The man with pale eyes and an intimidating stance is Lucifer. That means that the man who’s shining wings keep shifting closer to you must be Michael.

    “I’ve given you company.” Crowley says like it’s obviously. Then the king of Hell turns on his heel and leaves the hall. There aren’t even guards posted by the cage.

    “Hello...” Your voice is but a whisper and even with that single word your fear is nearly tangible. Michael frowns and Lucifer smirks, causing you to back up to the wall.


	87. Angels 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader had been raised by the archangels and Castiel, but they’re forced to kill Lucifer before he kills the Winchesters and Cas**

 

    Gabriel’s blade sinks into Lucifer like a hot knife through butter. You can feel as it hits the archangel’s grace, causing you to wince. Lucifer’s breath stutters and he breaks off mid-sentence. He slowly looks down at his stomach where the other side of the knife sticks out. His hand loosens until his blade drops from his hand. The silver colored blade hits the floor with a clatter that echoes around the room. You press your forehead to the back of Lucifer’s shirt, tears streaming down your face.

    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” You repeat over and over again. Lucifer starts to drop, and you catch him, gently helping him to his knees. Your past flashes before your eyes. Memories you share with the archangel on the other end of the blade in your hand. You remember learning how to fly. Something that Lucifer taught you himself. The moment four wings formed fully on your back instead of two you had the archangel’s attention. All of the archangels’ attentions. You remember spreading your wings as Lucifer dropped you. Him catching you when you weren’t able to fly correctly.

    “(Y/N).” Lucifer’s voice is shaky. Like when you came back from your first battle, covered in wounds and gushing silver yet gold grace along with red blood from your vessel. Like when you returned from your first shift at the healing ward, covered in other’s grace and blood.

    “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You whisper, just loud enough for Lucifer to hear. The tone that you’d used while in a boring meeting with Lucifer at your side. Like when you’d caught the new illness that had swept through the ranks of angels like an eleventh plague and you couldn’t talk louder than that pitch. Lucifer had been the only one able to watch you and take care of you then. “Forgive me?” You whisper even quieter before twisting the blade. Lucifer’s scream chases almost all sane thoughts from your mind as his Grace explodes. The marks of his wings sear onto your skin, permanent markings as to what you’ve done.


	88. Lucifer 3

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine movie night with Lucifer during a huge storm**

 

    You hadn’t been aware there are so many blankets in the bunker until they were all piled on or around the couch. You take some of the popcorn handed to you, smiling slightly before putting your head back on a sturdy chest. You feel extra warmth wrap around you, and you turn into the chest before smiling. You can’t see them, but you know that large wings are wrapped around you almost protectively as thunder clashes outside, sounding like mountains colliding. You’re well aware that the power should be out. You know for a fact that the rest of the bunker has no electricity.

    “Mph.” You grumble, wrapping your arms around the archangel’s stomach. You feel him smile as he places a kiss on your forehead. You turn toward the TV again, but you’re more focused on how  _warm_  you are. You’re pretty sure you should be melting in all of these fluffy blankets and under the wings, but you aren’t. You’re basically the perfect temperature, and you can thank the archangel you’re holding onto for that.

    “You okay?” Lucifer mumbles into your hair, knowing about your fear of thunder. You just nod, curling around the archangel a bit more. You feel him take a deep breath, showing his relaxation, as he shifts too. You eventually end up laying down. You’re actually laying on Lucifer who’s got his arms around you. Your head is pressed to his chest, and you can hear a steady heartbeat along with a deep purring sound. Lucifer had told you a while ago that the purring is his grace. He isn’t sure how you can hear it.

    “This show is so bad.” You mutter, staring at the TV. You’ve been marathoning basically the worst show on Netflix, and you’ve been secretly hoping that the show would eventually get better. So far your prayers have gone unanswered.

    “That’s the point.” Lucifer chuckles, causing his chest to vibrate. You sigh before closing your eyes and just enjoying the archangel’s company.


	89. Team Free Will 1, 6/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Team Free Will taking care of the reader, a little boy/girl, continued another time**

 

    “I’m bored.” You whine, shifting around on the bed in front of the TV. Uncle Sammy, who insists on having you have a visible person in the ro0m, glances up with a raised brow. Uncle Cas and Uncle Dean are out on a hunt or something, and the hotel you’re staying at has really bad TV. It’s all fuzzy and the words keep cutting out and being replaced by what Lucifer calls ‘static’.

    “What do you want me to do about it? Isn’t Luc around here somewhere?” Uncle Sammy has difficulties calling Lucifer by his full name. You don’t know why. Lucifer doesn’t really likes the nickname, but he lets Uncle Sammy use it because he ‘understands’. What he understands? You have no idea.

    “Can I play with your hair?” You ask eventually, giving up on the fuzzy Sesame Street that keeps repeating on the TV.

    “Sure. We don’t have anything to use, though.” Uncle Sammy mumbles, sounding relieved. Lucifer glances up from the bed. He’d been reading some big leather book, but he snaps and the book disappears.

    “I’ve got that covered.” Lucifer says, and when he snaps again there’s a bunch of rubber bands and clips and bows and stuff on the bed he’s lying in. Uncle Sammy walks into the room and jumps.

    “Where did all that come from?” Uncle Sammy asks, eyes a bit wide as he stares at all the supplies on the bed. You giggle a bit before pointing to Lucifer. He’s wearing what Uncle Dean calls a ‘smug expression’, and he flashes Sam a small smirk. “Luc?”

    “Yeah.” You say, patting the spot on the bed next to you. Sam sighs before trudging over and sitting next to you, wincing when you run a brush through his hair and you find a knot.


	90. Crowley 5, 5/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued another time**

 

    It’s almost a month later that you witness one of the actual fights between the archangels. You’re sitting in a far corner, watching the two argue nervously, when Lucifer throws the first punch. All while screaming insults at each other the two hit the floor. Michael grabs Lucifer and throws him across the room as he rolls, landing on his feet after the third backwards roll. By the time he gets his balance, Lucifer has already thrown himself at Michael. The two start shifting in and out of physical forms. Sometimes Michael is just a huge ball of light and sometimes Lucifer is a mass of swirling, dangerous shadows.

    Lucifer gets his hand around Michael’s neck, his entire body seizing up with the strength he puts into squeezing said neck. His twists his hand sharply when Michael puts all of his waning strength into shoving his hand into the shadow’s abdomen. Both the light and the dark explode, white blue and deep maroon flashes in front of you, and then you’re slammed against rusted bars hard enough for them to cut through your skin. You let out a small scream as pain races through your body from your neck, arms, and back.

    After a few minutes of a silence that’s only occasionally broken by your labored breathing, the bodies on the floor twitch. Lucifer sits up, shadows swirling and shifting around him as he becomes solid again. Michael does the same after a few minutes. Michael and Lucifer’s eyes immediately snap to you when you let out a pained noise. The automatic shift back had cause the bars to dig even further into your back.

    “(Y/N)?” Michael eventually asks, hesitantly stepping towards you. Your wince only manages to cause you more pain, so all you can do is sit still. The bars are too far into your back for it not to hurt awfully if you ever get off of them, and when you move it only makes the damage worse. Lucifer cusses and approaches you with large strides. A hand goes up at the last moment, and two fingers press against your forehead. Darkness washes over you like a wave, and you pass out quickly.


	91. Crowley 6

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine hiring a string quartet to follow Crowley around singing Mr Crowly by Ozzy Osbourne all day**

 

    “Mr. Crowley, what went on in your head? Oh, Mr. Crowley, did you talk to the dead?” Four voices sing in harmony.

    “Oh blimey hell!” Crowley shouts soon after, his accent much heavier with the shock he feels.

    “Your lifestyle to me seemed so tragic with the thrill of it all~” The quartet continues. You can hear an annoyed sound escape Crowley and you snicker, turning and heading down the hall when you hear the king of Hell start running in your direction.

    “(Y/N)!” Crowley shouts.

    “You fooled all the people with magic. Yeah, you waited on Satan’s door.” The men continue singing after a brief pause to laugh. You can hear thunderous footsteps running after Crowley. The demon is still somehow following you as you run through the bunker. Eventually you turn into a closet and shut the door, locking it a few moments later. You hear Crowley thunder past you, the singing following close behind.

    “I’ll get you back for this! Mark my words!” Crowley shouts from down the hall, slowing to a walk. With a heavy sigh, he resigns to his fate.


	92. Sam 6

**(Y/N) = Your Name**

**(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color**

**(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color**

**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color**

**Imagine washing you best friend, Sam Winchester’s, car with him**

 

“Your brother’s car is so much cooler.” You say, walking out into the driveway in your swimsuit. Sam raises a brow at you, and you do the same thing back to him. “What? I’m not getting my shirt and pants wet. Are you insane?”

“It’s about time you caught on.” Sam shoots back with a smirk. You roll your eyes at your childhood friend. When you come back from getting a bucket, soap, the hose, and two sponges Sam is standing there topless, and a pair of aviator sunglasses rest in front of his unique eyes. It takes basically all of your willpower not to stare or let your jaw drop. Yeah, falling in love with your best friend is an awful idea. You’ve realized that a long time ago. Sam raises a brow at you again, and a small blush creeps its way up your neck and onto your face when you realize you failed at doing both of the things you’ve been trying desperately not to do.

“It’s so hot out.” You complain, low-key trying to play off your blush. Sam nods, and you turn the hose’s spray on the Winchester to distract him. As the much taller man splutters around a facefull of water, you get you stare at a perfectly muscled torso and pair of arms. Sam turns back to you with an evil explosion and you get a five second head start. Not that it helps much. While you’re on the soccer team and able to sprint for a long time, Sam is on the football team and able to sprint and dodge just as well as you. He also has at least four inches on you and strides that cover two of yours.

“Hey!” Sam shouts, tossing his wet sunglasses into his car before racing after you. You let out a panicked noise when you glance back and see the Winchester getting closer and closer to you, covering ground much faster than you predicted. You turn quickly, heading towards a tree. You’re only a few meters from the large tree when Sam catches up to you. You let out a squeak, that you’ll never admit to, when Sam runs into you, picking you up and twisting as the both of you fall. You land on top of the much larger man, but her flips the both of you over so that he hovers over you with a smirk.

“Oops?” You mumble, face heating up as the Winchester plants his arms on either side of your head solidly, lowering himself slightly to the point where you probably couldn’t move even if you want to. Not that you want to. Not at all. Especially not when he lowers his head slowly, giving you to move away. When you don’t a flirtatious smirk flashes across his lips before they lower to yours. The kiss is slow at first but it gets more intense after a few minutes, the Winchester licking his way into your mouth and using his tongue in a way that leaves you woozy. The both of you quickly move to the back of Sam’s car.


	93. Gadreel 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine after dinner you and your boyfriend, Gadreel, get into a huge fight**

 

    “Where were you last night?” You ask, gently placing your silverware down as you take a sip of soda. Gadreel glances at you, immediately noticing you mood change. The angel looks down and away.

    “Nowhere, Love.” Gadreel says, not looking at you.

    “Bullshit. You came back at three in the morning bleeding. Where the hell were you, Gadreel?” You ask, very close to snapping. Gadreel’s eyes flash with surprise before they fill with annoyance and no small amount of anger.

    “Nowhere important.” Gadreel says, this time not looking away from you as your temper flairs.

    “Nowhere important? You blew off our anniversary for ‘nowhere important’?” You snap, shoving your plate to the middle of the table so you can slam your hands on it. “You come home at random times, you’re always injured in some fucking way. Gadreel, do you understand the amount of patience I waste on you not being here? I get you’re not human, but holy  _shit_. I was hoping for one day. Just one day where you’d be here and I wouldn’t feel  _empty_!” You yell, standing up. Gadreel stands up too.

    “I have a duty, (Y/N)!  I can’t just drop it because of you. It doesn’t  _matter_  what I think about my job, I have to do it. Do you think that I  _want_ to be away from you for so long?!” Gadreel shouts right back.

    “I don’t fucking know! How am I supposed to know?! You’re constantly gone, and we almost never see each other! I barely know anything about you, let alone what you think! You’ve changed so  _much_  since we first met that I don’t even know what to  _think_  anymore. You don’t tell me anything! You weren’t here on our damned  _anniversary_ , and you won’t even tell me why. How the hell am I supposed to know if I can even trust you not to just give up on me anymore, Gadreel. Do you understand what I think when you’re gone? How many times I think that you’re just bored with me and that you’re just with some other man/woman?” You scream, gathering up your stuff and shoving it into a bag. Gadreel follows you, grabbing your wrist when you open the front door.

    “Where are you going?” Gadreel asks, staring deeply into your (Y/N) as they narrow. You try to move away but you can’t.

    “I’m leaving.” You say back, voice trembling as your eyes water.

    “So you’re just going to run away? You aren’t going to let me explain myself?” Gadreel asks, voice sharp as a knife.

    “No. I’m not, because I can’t trust you to tell me the truth. And what’s so bad about running away? You do it pretty often.” You know it’s a low blow, but you can’t stay any longer or you’re going to have a breakdown. Gadreel recoils sharply, letting go of your wrist just long enough for you to get out the door. You throw your bag into the passenger seat and start up your car, You pull out of the driveway and speed away when Gadreel runs outside, one hand outstretched as you speed down the road.


	94. Crowley 5, 6/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued another time**

 

    When you wake up you’re surrounded by something soft and warm, and your back aches terribly. You frown, moving a bit and letting out a gasp of pain. Your eyes snap open quickly as you remember what happened, and you grit your teeth as you force yourself not to cry. The warmth around you shifts and shadows move out of the way of your vision, allowing you to see the ceiling above you. As soon as you realize that you’re no longer on the bars the shadows move back over you, a lighter colored shape of the same size moving above it. After a few more minutes you realize that the light and dark masses are huge wings.

    You turn a bit but there’s a muffled tired sound from your side. You register the touch on your stomach and the other a few inches above that weight. You lift your head a bit to see two arms slung across your stomach, not touching the other and coming from opposite sides. Something moves under your head and you realize that the soft pillow-like object under your head is another arm. A man a few inches taller than you shifts around with a sleepy frown, and the arm higher up your abdomen shifts and tightens until you’re pressed almost flush against Michael, his dark hair falling in front of his closed eyes messily.

    Lucifer shifts behind you, letting out a series of calming hums as he moves closer and pins you between him and Michael. “What are you-” You whisper as quietly as you can, and Lucifer cuts you off.

    “Healing you. We’re unable to use our powers, and we never were the healers of the group, but you’re human. Just being this close to our graces will speed up your healing by at least fifty times the speed.” Lucifer murmurs sleepily into your (Y/H/C) locks. You’re still and stiff for a few moments until you slowly nod and relax. Michael pulls you closer, along with Lucifer, and you end up flush against both of the archangels.

    “Just go to sleep.” Michael mumbles still mostly asleep, before he follows his ow advice, You and Lucifer still do the same, completely unaware of the furious king of Hell sitting on his throne, watching the three of you.


	95. Bobby 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Bobby letting the reader stay at his house when he/she/they run(s) away from home**

 

    “Kid? What are you doing here?” Bobby opens the door all the way when he sees it’s you, taking in your soaked state with a concerned frown. You cross your arms and stare at the ground a few minutes, eventually giving up on trying to stop the tears falling down your face. You look back up, bloodshot (Y/E/C) eyes staring into Bobby’s.

    “I-I ran away and I don’t- I don’t know where else to go, Bobby.” You whisper, looking away again, deciding to stare at the doormat. Bobby is silent for a few minutes, but then he moves out of the door. You look up again hopefully, and when Bobby nods you walk into the house. “I’m sorry-ry. I didn’t know where- where else to g-g-go-o.” You stutter from both the freezing clothes that stick to your skin and the intense sorrow racing through you.

    “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m just glad you finally got your ass out of that house. Do you think they’ll look for you here?” Bobby asks. You shrug, looking at the man who’s more of a dad to you than your own father.

    “I don’t even know if they’ll notice I’m gone. If they do I don’t think they’ll come here. I ran away a few days ago. I walked here.” You say, still shivering. Bobby looks you over as he closes the door.

    “Go change. I have extra clothes here because of my two sons. The shirts’ll be oversized, and none of the pants’ll fit, but they’re warm. I might have a pair of sweatpants still here from when you were last here. I’ll heat up some food.” Bobby says. A fresh wave of tears washes over you, and you find that your breath has left you. You stare at Bobby, and even though you say no words you know that the man understands what you want to say to him.

    “Thank you.” You manage to choke out. Bobby nods before turning and wheeling himself into the kitchen. You wait for him to disappear from your sight before you turn and head up the stairs, finding the sweatpants and a huge black shirt that smells faintly of cologne and oil. You stare into the mirror at your wet (Y/H/C) locks and the bags under your eyes. You head downstairs when Bobby calls you, and you get a bed that smells a bit like the shirt after you and Bobby eat.


	96. Sam 7

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam helping the reader with his/her/their homework**

 

    You slam your head against the table, drawing Sam’s attention. The much taller man looks up from the book he’s breezing through to look at you with a raised brow. You don’t even look up from the huge folder next to an open book and your binder. The Winchester frowns, taking in your anxious state and how close you seem to be to crying. He stands up and heads over to the table, pulling out the chair that your backpack isn’t on. He sits next to you, placing a hand on your back and rubbing calming circles slowly.

    “Are you okay?” Sam asks in a whispered tone, immediately noticing the signs of an oncoming migraine. You shake your head, slamming it against the table again. Sam winces before heading to the kitchen. He pours you a cup of water and grabs the pain pills he used when he’d been in college while studying. He places two in front of you along with the cup of water and you look up wearily. “Take them. Trust me, it’ll help.”

    “Thank you.” You murmur, taking the pills quickly and downing your cup of water. Your hand is shaking a bit as you desperately try to pick out what you should take from the book and put into notes. Sam notices the shaking and gently places his hand on the one you aren’t using.

    “Calm down, (Y/N).” Sam says soothingly, taking your hand in his and rubbing circles into the back of your hand. “I’ll help out. What are you doing?”

    “I’m trying to take stupid notes. I’ve never been good at this.” You mumble, calming down as Sam continues rubbing circles on the back of your hand. It’s always been something that calms you down. Your mom had done it to you when you were a little kid and during your panic attacks when you were a teenager.

    “Alright, Let’s have a look at this.” Sam says, leaning close to your book and to you. You sigh before paying attention to what Sam is doing.


	97. Crowley 7

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saves the reader, who’s five years old, from an abusive family, and he becomes his/her/their ‘guardian demon’ through the process of getting the reader away from the abusers until he just decides to adopt the reader**

 

    You’re crying on the playground when the man appears. He’s in a black suit and his eyes are brown but green at the same time. You wipe your eyes, sniffling as you look at the man. “He-He-He-Hello-o.” You whisper, arms wrapped around your knees. The man looks down at you, and then he sits next you, crossing his arms and leaning against the fence that stops people from falling off of the bridge.

    “Hello.” The man greets calmly. You frown at the word. He says it funny. It sounds more important and a bit stretched out. Like taffy. Raspberry taffy. The man raises a brow at you when you don’t say anything, but then he shrugs and leans back again. “Why are you crying, little one?” He asks, his weird tone reminding you of the villains in movies.

    “Mommy and Daddy are talking funny again.” You sniffle. “And their breath is stinky. Daddy already shoved me and Mommy hurt my arm.” The man looks angry as he stares at you and you wince. You did something wrong again, didn’t you? “Are you gonna hit me?” You’re whispering again.

    “Absolutely not.” The man says, a little bit red. You don’t know why. It isn’t cold outside. “Only a- a  _beast_  would do that. I may be a monster, but I’m not a  _monster_.” The man says, eyes narrowing dangerously as he looks at your house. It’s easy to tell which one it is. Mommy and Daddy are shouting, and you can hear it all the way down the street. “Are you okay?”

    “My arm and belly hurt.” You mumble, shifting when the man leans forwards. He pauses when he sees you do so.

    “I won’t hurt you. I’m going to watch over you. Protect you. Are you okay with that?” The man asks.

    “What’s your name?” You mumble when the man places a hand on your shoulder. The pain disappears and you start getting sleepy.

    “My name is Crowley. Sleep, little one.”

    “My name is (Y/N).” You murmur sleepily. Then you fall asleep, your head resting on Crowley’s side.


	98. Dean 9

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean sleeps with you because there are only two bed rooms open**

 

    You stare at the two beds, brows furrowed before you sigh again in exasperation. You turn to the Winchesters, who are looking between you and the beds. “I’m not sleeping with him.” The two say at the same time, motioning to the other. You scowl, crossing your arms. All of you are tired. It was a long hunt, and it’s three in the morning.

    “Play rock paper scissors. I guess I’m sleeping with the loser.” You say, looking at the two beds again in distaste. You hear the brothers play rock paper scissors and then Sam’s weight hit the bed.

    “Guess you’re bunking with me.” Dean says, taking off his shirt and his pants. The man stands in his boxers for a few moments before climbing into the bed. You scowl again before taking off your pants and grabbing Sam’s shirt. You quickly put it on after taking off your own shirts. You then climb into the same bed as Dean, raising a brow at how the Winchester is already asleep. You roll onto your side and pull the blankets over you. You close your eyes and sigh heavily out of your nose, yawning soon afterwards.

    “Dean!” You hiss in a half-asleep state when a hand wraps around your waist. The other hunter doesn’t respond, and the quiet snoring coming from behind your head tells you that Dean is still asleep. You’re dragged backwards and pressed against a chest, and arm under your head and another wrapped around your abdomen from your waist. You struggle briefly, but you only manage to have Dean tightened his hold on you and pull you even closer to him. You end up flush against the hunter, and you’re able to feel the heat radiating off of his chest when it hits your back.

    It takes you only a few minutes to be hit with fatigue again. You yawn, shifting back against the Winchester accidentally. It takes you only a few more minutes to pass out, one hand resting above Dean’s and the other arm splayed out above you.


	99. Team Free Will 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine trick or treating with Team Free Will**

 

    “Trick or treat.” You smile, holding up your bag. Sure, you’re a full grown person, but why should that stop you from having fun on a holiday? The woman at the door looks you up and down. Castiel is dressed as usual except for the huge wings that sprout from his back. They’re fake, of course, but they look very realistic. Dean is dressed as usual too, but he got black contacts that make him look like a demon. All he has to do is flash his smirk to complete his outfit. Sam is much paler than usual, and he has realistic red contacts along with amazingly good looking fangs. Gabriel stands next to you, pulling off a toga with a halo and a harp. Small white wings sprout from his back, not even making it past your shoulders. Charlie is dressed up in her LARPing gear, and you look like a cyborg.

    “Aren’t you a little old to be trick or treating?” The woman asks, not seeming to actually care. Gabriel raises an eyebrow, snatching a sucker from the bag and tossing the wrapper into his bag. He pops the tootsiepop in his mouth, smirking a bit.

    “Aren’t you a little too old to genuinely give a shit?” Gabriel shoots back, grabbing another piece of candy before retreating to the back of the group. The old woman holds up the candy bowl, letting everyone take a handful. She even lets Gabriel take another handful. She winks at Gabriel when he shows up again.

    “True enough.” The old woman says back before closing the door. You and the group look at each other with raised brows before walking down to the next house.

    “Trick or treat.” Gabriel says this time, waving a bit at the man who opens the door. The man hesitantly waves back with a raised brow.

    “Here.” He says, handing each of you a large candy bar. Gabriel raises his brows, stuffing the candy into his overflowing bag.

    “King sized? I think you’re my favorite.” Gabriel says before turning and leading the way to the next house. You laugh a bit at the man’s surprised look.


	100. Destiel 3

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine finding out that a very drunk Dean and Cas got married in Vegas when they find the papers in their suitcases when they get back**

 

    “Castiel!” Dean’s enraged voice echoes around the base and you raise a brow, following the noise to the man who made it. You appear in the doorway of Dean’s room, eating an apple and greeting Sam who also looked confused and a bit interested in what’s going on.

    “Hello, Dean.” Castiel greets, appearing behind the man. Said green eyed man jumps and cusses before spinning around and holding papers close to Castiel’s face.

    “What the hell is this?” Dean asks, shoving the papers even closer to the angel. The dark haired man frowns, not moving from his current position other than leaning away a bit. Dean follows him with the papers.

    “I am unaware. The papers are too close to my vessel’s eyes for me to be able to read the papers.” Castiel says, causing you to snort. Dean ignores you as he unfolds the papers, shoving them into Castiel’s chest as soon as they’re unfolded. Cas tilts his head to the side in confusion, grabbing the papers and allowing his hand to linger above Dean’s until he pulls away. Blue eyes flicker across the papers before they widen noticeably. “When did this happen?” Castiel asks, brows furrowing.

    “Last day at Vegas, apparently.” The two had gone on a hunt that was in Vegas, and they’d finished a day early. Knowing Dean he probably took the angel to enough bars to actually get the angel truly drunk.

    “What is it?” You ask, taking a bite of your cereal. Sam nods, leaning on the other side of the doorframe with crossed arms. Before Dean can object Sam is given the papers. His eyes flicker across the papers as he reads them, and he chokes on nothing before laughing so hard he bends at the waist. You raise a brow, putting your cereal down on the table in the hallway before grabbing the papers. You read them quickly, and then you slap your hand over mouth. You nearly collapse with laughter, basically howling with it. Sam grabs your arm, laughing with you  as Dean silently fumes. When you slow down, there are tears in your eyes and you’re almost crying.

    “Oh my  _god_.” Sam howls.

    “You two got  _married_? How  _drunk_  were you?!” You cackle.


	101. Gabriel 5

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Gabriel saving the reader from a car accident and he takes him/her/them in when he learns he/she/they have/has no family**

 

    “That was close.” The man appears from nowhere in your car’s passenger seat, his feet kicked up onto the dashboard and his arms crossed behind his head. You stare ahead with wide (Y/E/C) eyes, mouth still somewhat opened from your scream. One minute you’d been driving, the next a car had swerved into your lane. You’d been millimeters from getting into a fatal accident when the nausea had hit you. And now you’re sitting on the side of the road. the car not completely started, and a blonde man is sitting next to you while bobbing his head to AC DC.

    “What the  _hell_?” You finally come to your senses. You meant to shout but it comes out as a shaky whisper. The man next to you frowns a bit before reaching over and turning down the radio to hear you better. “What just happened?”

    “I just saved your ass from dying almost a hundred years too soon.” The man says, his eyes telling you he’s being serious behind the sarcasm that colors his words.

    “What- How- Who are-” The man cuts you off.

    “The names Gabriel. Trickster, Pagan God, Archangel. Do you live in this car?” The man- Gabriel, talks quickly, turning the attention back to you as soon as he gets the chance. You wince a bit at the question, which gives the man (Archangel?) the answer before you even get the chance to deny it. “What the hell. What’s your name?”

    “(Y/N).” You mumble, staring out of your window instead of at the man. You hear him make a sound somewhere between annoyance and anger. You furrow your brows and turn to look at the man to see him reaching for you. Your eyes widen in shock and you try to move away, but Gabriel just rolls his eyes and grabs your arm. Within seconds you pass out, light flashing in front of you before you do so that leaves your eyes burning.


	102. Gabriel 5, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Gabriel saving the reader from a car accident and he takes him/her/them in when he learns he/she/they have/has no family**

 

    You wake up on a plush bed and nearly forget that you were just kidnaped by a dude with super powers. Aparently he’s the archangel Gabriel. How the hell did your life just change so quickly? You groan as you sit up, stretching. You wince at all of the pops and cracks that come from your joints and bones as you do so. “That doesn’t sound good.” The man is sitting on the couch in the huge room, watching some comedy movie with a sucker hanging out of his mouth. There’s something new, though. Something very very new that you can see. There are six huge wings attached to Gabriel’s back.

    “You weren’t kidding about being an angel.” You say, a bit breathless as you stare at the wings. You aren’t really able to say what color they are, the colors and shades keep changing. Sometimes it looks like he has two or four or eight wings, too. God, your head hurts just from looking at them.

    “Hmm?” Gabriel asks, not really hearing you as he was paying attention to the movie and not your whispering.

    “Your wings. You have wings. And super powers. You weren’t kidding in the car. Also, where the hell am I?” You ask almost as a second thought. Damn those wings for being so distracting.

    “Small island that humans haven’t found yet. Named it paradise. Wait, you can see my wings?” The archangel turns to you, gold eyes boring into your (Y/E/C) pair. He seems to be searching for some sign that you’re kidding. That you don’t see the huge, obvious wings attached to Gabriel’s back.

    “Well, they aren’t exactly small.” You scowl, eyes roaming over the huge expansion of feathers as they go from black to brown to white to gold. Holy shit your eyes hurt.

    “This is an interesting turn of events.” Gabriel says. He stares at you a few more seconds before turning back to the TV. “Go to sleep.”

    “I’m not tired.” You retort, starting to get out of the bed. Gabriel snaps, still watching the movie, and your eyes widen as a wave of fatigue rushes over you. It takes you about three seconds to pass out again afterwards.


	103. Crowley 7, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saves the reader, who’s five years old, from an abusive family, and he becomes his/her/their ‘guardian demon’ through the process of getting the reader away from the abusers until he just decides to adopt the reader**

 

    When you wake up you’re not at the park and the man is gone. You think he’s just another friend that Mommy and Daddy say aren’t real, but then you see that you’re still in yesterday’s clothes and there’s a word on your wrist. You look at the dark ink and squint your eyes. It takes you a few minutes to figure out how to say the word, but when you do you see that it’s the name of the man from last night. Crowley. Your new friend who said he’s gonna protect you. Is he gonna protect you from Mommy and Daddy?

    You wander over to your drawer, and you’re about to call out for Mommy to help you choose clothes. Then you hear the slamming and groaning downstairs, and you decide that calling Mommy would probably hurt you instead of help you. You frown as you look at the clothes. You need something that will cover the marks, but you wanna match. Because if you don’t match Daddy gets angry. You start to feel a little bit upset and a little bit panicky when you feel the air shift in the room.

    “Hello.” You greet Crowley, who’s sitting on the end of your bed with a book. The man looks up in surprise, his brown and green eyes flickering over to you.

    “Did you call me?” He asks, his words sounding funny. Why do they sound so different? You think Mommy calls it an… An… An accent! That’s it.

    “No.” You answer his question quietly, not wanting Mommy or Daddy to hear. Crowley looks at you with narrow eyes, looking into your (Y/E/C) eyes for a little bit.

    “Why are you afraid?” He asks, seeing your panic fairly quickly. You shrug and cross your arms, looking at the floor.

    “If I don’t match Daddy will be upset, but Mommy is still clumsy and she gets angry really fast when she’s clumsy.” You say, still staring at the floor. You hear Crowley sigh and wince when he stands up, but he just kneels next to you and opens your drawers. He hands you a soft white sweater and then a pair of tan shorts.

    “Wear your white shoes and your gold necklace if you must.” The man says, cold eyes softening a bit as he looks at you.

    “Thank you.” You say, hugging the man. Crowley freezes up a bit before awkwardly returning your hug, patting you on the back a bit. It’s okay that he doesn’t know how to hug good. You can teach him.

    “Of course. Anything to help.” Crowley says, standing up and taking a step back. You wave at him, and he returns the gesture before snapping and disappearing. You quickly put on the outfit, fix your knotty (Y/H/C) hair, and brush your teeth. Then you grab your backpack, put on your shoes, and sneak outside to the bus stop before Clumsy Mommy catches you. You don’t notice Crowley watching you from a bench, still reading his book, to make sure you get to the bus safely. It helps that he’d locked the front door after you left.


	104. Winchester Brothers 5

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being Jess’s little brother/sister and you get injured on a hunt, and Sam and Dean find you**

 

    You’ve known you’re known to make stupid decisions now and then. You know it, Jess knew it, Sam knew it. Basically everyone did. Does. Whatever. But this definitely takes the cake for one of the most idiotic things you’ve done. You found a group of demons doing what yellow eyes did to your sister, so you hunted them down. Well, they’re dead now. But you might be too soon. You keep your hand firmly pressed against the huge cut across your abdomen. You’re breathing irregularly, and when you hear the engine speeding down the road you think that you’re hallucinating.

    But then a slick black car speeds in front of you, and then the driver slams on the brakes. You watch the doors get thrown open warily, but then you really see one of the men racing towards you. His hair is longer, and he looks a lot more like a lion than a puppy, but it’s still obviously Jess’s boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? You aren’t really sure what to call him. But you know that that giant of a man rushing towards you is Sam Winchester, your almost brother-in-law.

    “(Y/N)? Shit!” Sam shouts, breaking into a sprint as you start falling. How the man gets there before you hit the ground, you aren’t sure.

    “Sam?” You groan, your vision swimming as you look for his face. More specifically, his eyes. You need to know how bad the damage is, and his face isn’t going to show you anything important. You know how the man has the habit of blocking off his emotions from his face. His eyes tell you that you’re in a fuckload of trouble.

    “It’s me. It’s me (Y/N). God, what the fuck did you  _do_?” Sam almost shouts, his larger hands covering your own and pushing harder on your wound. “Dean, get the kit!” He turns a bit before turning around to face you again.

    “Demons. Doing what yellow eyes did. Killed ‘em. Obviously got hurt in the process.” You mutter, wincing at Sam’s hands. You’re about to explain that you are  _not_ , in fact, crazy, but then Sam hits you with something that leaves you almost breathless.

    “You’re a hunter? A  _hunter_? And you hunt by  _yourself_? (Y/N),  _what the hell?!_ ” Sam does shout this time, still applying a huge amount of pressure to your bleeding abdomen. He sees the surprised question in your eyes. “ _I’m_  a hunter, (Y/N). I hunt with my brother, Dean. Hurry up! Alright, I’m gonna put you under when we’re moving you, alright? Good.” Sam then places a damp cloth over your mouth and nose. Your eyes widen momentarily when you smell the sickly sweet stench of chloroform. Then darkness washes over you quickly, leaving you confused and a bit worried for your life.


	105. Crowley 7, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saves the reader, who’s five years old, from an abusive family, and he becomes his/her/their ‘guardian demon’ through the process of getting the reader away from the abusers until he just decides to adopt the reader, continued**

 

    Mommy and Daddy had been drinking that dark stuff that tastes like germ-X again. You sit on your bed, legs held against your belly and your arms hugging your legs. You hear Mommy stomping up the stairs like she’s angry, and a high pitched sounds leaves your mouth without you telling it to. When the doorknob starts to turn you burry your head in your legs, and then Crowley is there, leaning against the door with one hand pressed in the middle of it. Your eyes widen when Mommy says a bad word, and then three more, as she tries to open the door. Crowley doesn’t even move a millimeter as he glares through the door. His eyes flash and a bit of red glows around his eyes like he’s crying blood, but then it goes away when he glances at you.

    “Are you alright? Did either of them hurt you?” He asks, voice shaking as he tries not to growl or shout at you. He knows that will send you into a panic attack, even though you don’t know what those moments where your heartbeat speeds up and everything is scary is called. You stare at the door with wide eyes before looking back at Crowley when Mommy pounds on it angrily before muttering angry words and then walking away. You can hear her pounding down the stairs.

    “No.” You finally whisper. Crowley nods before snapping his fingers and walking over to you, letting you wrap your arms around him and bury your head in his stomach. He gently pats your back before putting you back on your bed, sitting on the edge.

    “Is there anything else you need me to do, little one?” He asks, seeming to calm down a bit when he looks at you. You think about what you’re going to ask, but then you see that he isn’t angry and you ask it.

    “Will you read me a bedtime story?” You whisper, voice a bit shaky. Crowley looks at you for a while, then he sighs and walks over to your bookshelf.

    “Any book in particular, little one?”

    “No.” You say with a small smile.


	106. Team Free Will 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

****Imagine the reader being loopy from laughing gas after he/she/they get(s)  his/her/their wisdom teeth removed** **

 

    Your giggling has spread to the front of the impala. Even in your fuzzy state of mind you can make out Sam’s laugh from the passenger seat. Dean turns away from the open road to glare at his brother, smacking his hand when his brother reaches for his shoulder. Dean turns to you then, obviously not truly angry as he glares at you with his very green eyes. You giggle as his face warps a bit, twisting and blurring a bit before settling again. The laughing gas the nice doctor gave you makes you feel tired but not tired so everything loops and turns. Your thoughts are scrambled like the eggs you ate this morning.

    Sam is still laughing hysterically, and Dean turns back to him. “Do you need something?” Dean asks Sam, turning into a blur of colors for a few seconds before settling again. You start giggling again as you remember Castiel’s confused head tilt. You then picture him as a puppy and your giggling nears a hysterical point Dean turns back to you with a worried look before turning back to look at the road. “Make sure /he’s/she’s/they’re not dying back there.”

    “He’s/She’s/They’re good.” Sam manages to choke out between bouts of laughter. Castiel pops up in the back seat next to you. Too bad, you were just calming down too. You burst into another bout of giggles, causing Castiel to flinch away in surprise. The angel stares at you with wide blue eyes, and that sets off even Dean.

    “I do not understand what’s going on here.” Castiel says, causing Dean to smile as he laughs.

    “(Y/N) got his/her/their wisdom teeth removed.” Sam explains, breathing a bit heavily. You nearly pass out from lack of breath. Castiel turns to you to make sure you don’t do exactly that.

    “I was unaware that humans have teeth that give you more intelligence. Why would you get them removed?” That causes Dean to have to pull the Impala over.


	107. Castiel 7

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

****Imagine being able to see Castiel’s wings clearly, and also being able to faintly see other angel and archangel wings** **

 

    You groan in pain, throwing a hand over your eyes as your alarm clock screams at you to wake up. You roll out of be, landing clumsily on your feet before you trudge downstairs to grab a bowl of cereal. You grab the remote and turn on the TV to watch it as you eat. You grab your frosted flakes and sit on your run down but also extremely comfortable couch. Just out of college, you’re broke as hell and it’s a miracle that this apartment didn’t use to house a murderer or something along those lines. Those weird ass dreams that come true happen more in the new house, but there isn’t really anything you can do about that. You can’t stop them from happening occasionally during the day, either.

    You know that somebody is going to knock on your door seconds before they do so, so you sigh and put down your cereal on the creaky table and head towards the door. Sure enough, there’s a steady knocking on the door soon afterwards. You look down and make sure that you’re in something publicly decent and socially acceptable, and then you open the door. The first man you see is about six foot one with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen and a white toothed smile that flashes teeth straighter than the man who wears the smile is. His tan skin is marked with freckles on his face, and small scars are scattered about his body. His lips are full, and your first thought is  _how the hell is this guy an FBI agent instead of a cop?_

    The man next to him is even  _taller_ than the green eyed man. His hair is brown and long, almost opposite of the first man’s short blonde hair. The taller man has eyes that are made up of a kaleidoscope of colors, and when he flashes you a quick smile you see that his teeth are also perfectly straight and white. This man is probably around six foot five, and has a wider and more muscular frame than the first man. Not that the first man looks weak or thin by any means. Both of them look like those perfect jocks you and everybody else attracted to guys in high school swooned over. The men flash their badges, faces becoming serious again. Yours does the same quickly.

    “Morning, sir/ma’am. How are you this morning?” The taller man asks, obviously the ‘good cop’ out of the two.

    “We’re here to ask some questions about the recent murder of Andrew Hibikie. May we come in?” The smaller man asks, his serious expression making his cheekbones more apparent and visible. These men both have jawlines stronger than your wifi connection, and holy  _shit_ do they look like supermodels.

    “Yeah, sure. C’mon in. The house is a mess on the second floor so watch where you step while one of you checks it out while the other questions me.” You mutter the last bit to yourself, but you know that the taller man hears you.

    “My name is Henry Garrison, and this is my partner Elijah Barton. Another agent, his name is Steven Romanov, will be joining us in a few minutes. He’s just getting a few things from the car.” The green eyed man tells you, and you nod to show that you heard and understood him. A corner of your mouth quirks up. 

    “Wanna bring in agents Stark, Banner, and Rogers while you’re at it? Do you guys need any-  _Holy shit!_ ” You cut yourself off as another man walks into the room, his dark hair messed up in a very sexy way and his ice colored eyes electric. Said eyes snap to you, but you barely notice. The things that are stealing all your attention are the two absolutely  _huge_ wings that are folded against the trench coat wearing man’s back.


	108. Castiel 7, 2/?

_Hey guys. I just made an insta if you want to check it out. It's a thing where I post things like either supernatural or marvel characters. I'm not really sure how to describe it but if ya'll check it out and give feedback or something I'd appreciate it. The name is fictionaldaily_  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
**(Y/N) = Your Name**

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being able to see Castiel’s wings clearly, and also being able to faintly see other angel and archangel wings, continued**

 

    The men react right away, weapons drawn and aimed behind the man. “What is it?” ‘Agent Garrison’ asks, forest colored eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Agent Barton’ stares at you and then at the other man a few seconds before lowering his weapon, his partner doing the same.

    “What?” The man in the dirty trenchcoat narrows his eyes, staring at you. His eyes flicker behind him, and then his wings spread a bit. Your eyes follow the movements, and surprise flashes across his ocean like eyes.

    “What is it?” The man with multicolored eyes asks, staring at you and then the man with wings again when he recognizes the knowing expression.

    “He’s/She’s/They’re a prophet. He/She/They can see my wings.” The man says. Your (Y/E/C) eyes widen and you take a step back when the man takes a step towards you. The man next to you grabs your arm before you can move any further away from either of them. The man with green eyes and low cheekbones turns to you with wide eyes.

    “A what? She’s/He’s/They’re a  _prophet_?” He exclaims, still staring at you. You’re about to ask the men what the hell they’re talking about, but then your vision goes black. After what feels like watching minutes of gore you snap out of it to see only a few seconds have passed. You quickly kick the man who’s holding you in the back of the knee and he falls. You grab his gun, twirling to face the man with green eyes.

    “Duck!” You shouts, and he does so a second before the  _thing_  jumps through the window. You pull the trigger almost without thinking, putting rounds of bullets into the beast’s chest and head. The thing falls to the floor, slowly morphing back into a human form. The man slowly gets up from the floor, a pistol raised. You quickly drop the shotgun in your hands, staring at the person on the floor with nearly terrified eyes. You don’t bother moving the (Y/H/C) strands out of your eyes.

    “What the hell was that?” The man with a hand still on your shoulder exclaims, looking at the man with dark locks and electric eyes.

    “That, Sam, is what you two were hunting.” The man with wings says, his shadowy blue wings spread behind him a bit defensively.

    “How did you know that was coming?” Sam asks, turning to you. You stutter as you try to explain the flashes of the future.

    “I- Uh- I sorta saw it before it happened. Like, I saw a few minutes in a few seconds.” You attempt to explain.

    “What?”

    “Visions, dumbass.” The man’s partner says.

    “Who even  _are_  you people?!” You finally ask, heart hammering, breathing heavy, and adrenaline is rushing through you in large doses.

    “I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam. We’re hunters, as in we drive across the country killing things like  _that_.” Dean explains, and you nod shakily. He then motions to the man with wings. “That’s Castiel. He’s a fallen angel of the lord but he’s still got his grace and powers." You stand there dully, trying to process this information. Eventually your brain gives up and you pass out.


	109. Destiel 4

****This’ll basically be a Cinderella!Destiel thing if ya’ll want me to continue it** **

 

        It’s the same thing every morning. Wake up, barely eat anything, then cook a breakfast better than anything he’s ever eaten for his brothers and usually absent father. Castiel almost never sees or even hears his father anymore. Sometimes Joshua, the butler, talks with him, but as far as Castiel’s heard from tuning in to their conversations his father isn’t coming home. Ever. Cas frowns as a bell rings somewhere nearby. It continues just long enough for Castiel to glance over and see that it’s Michael’s silver bell ringing. He hurries to make the rest of the food while Lucifer’s and Raphael’s gold and bronze bells start ringing. Castiel’s ice eyes widen as he shoves things onto platters and then onto the cart. He shoves the squeaky cart in front of him, and he practically carries it up the ramp because it’s too lopsided to push on not flat surfaces.

        He enters Michael’s room first, seeing his brother already in dress pants and an untucked, unbuttoned white collared shirt. “Castiel.” Michael greets in that tone that makes Castiel’s flesh crawl. That falsely happy and appreciative tone is so much worse than Raphael’s downright hateful stare, words, and tone. Castiel winces when Michael approaches as he sets up a small foldable table made of clean, dark wood. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when the black haired man simply walks past him to his closet. “I was expecting you sooner.”

        “The cat knocked down the milk and I had to clean it up.” Castiel says, his voice but a whisper. Michael comes out of the closet as he tucks in his shirt, a black trench coat thrown over his shoulder. His brother neatly lays the coat on his large bed as he buttons up his shirt and the vest he’d put on over it. He puts a tie around his neck as he wanders over to the sink, the one in his bedroom, not the bathroom, and started brushing his teeth. Castiel finishes putting the breakfast where it’s supposed to be, and then he leaves, dumping the archangel’s dirty clothes into the bin on the bottom of the cart he’s pushing.

        “Castiel.” Lucifer manages to sound even more intimidating than Michael, which Castiel has to grudgingly admit is impressive. Castiel freezes a few seconds and Lucifer’s face softens a bit before he draws in his grace’s aura’s coverage area. Castiel hesitates a few seconds before entering the room, quickly laying out breakfast as Lucifer wanders over to his dresser. He pulls on a pair of black jeans, and then he turns to Cas as he slips on his combat boots. “Purple, maroon, or red?” He asks, motioning to his shirts. Castiel looks from him to the shirts a few times before responding.

        “Dark blue would look better.” His voice is small and tight and Lucifer sighs, looking at his little brother with intense pale eyes as he ducks his head.

        “We’ll work on it, Castiel. Don’t worry about it.” He says, pulling on the shirt Castiel told him to wear. He doesn’t even look in the mirror, he just trusts Castiel’s taste in clothes, which is actually quite good, and he grabs his suitcase. His six _huge_ black wings expand from his back, and Lucifer flashes a small smile at Castiel before he takes off. Castiel knows that Lucifer honestly tries to be kind and as unintimidating as possible, but it doesn’t really help that he’s the second strongest angel, tied with Michael for that place and under only Dean Winchester. Castiel sees Michael walk down the staircase, his also very large six white wings folded behind him. He takes off in the middle of the opening room.

        Raphael doesn’t even speak to Castiel as he sets up his food. The smaller angel can feel the archangel’s hateful glare on the back of his neck, so he moves as fast as he physically can. “Get out now.” Raphael orders as soon as Castiel is done. He nods and quickly grabs the dirty laundry as he leaves. Raphael’s six silver wings had already been out, and they matched with his black suit well. Castiel sighs and slows down as he passes Gabriel’s room, seeing he’s still asleep. He places the platter of food on the side table, along with a large cup of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He then grabs his laundry as he leaves, hurrying in case Gabriel wakes up.

        It’s not that he’s scared of Gabriel. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Gabriel is the only brother Castiel has that he isn’t terrified of. It’s just that Gabriel doesn’t like it that Castiel does all the work, and he hates it the most when Castiel does _his_ work. Gabriel groans, and Castiel cusses, rushing out of the room and slamming the door. Even hungover, Gabriel will still hunt Castiel down if he catches him doing his stuff. It’s bad enough for him that he made him breakfast. As Castiel runs downstairs he hears a door fly open, soon followed by his angry brother’s voice.

        “ _Castiel!_ ”


	110. Crowley 8

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being Crowley’s punk son/daughter**

 

    “Get that metal out of your face!” Your dad shouts in exasperation. You turn your head to look at him, your entirely black eyes glaring.

    “Get your head out of your ass.” You snap back. “It isn’t the seventeenth century, father. Besides, I look great.” You say, flicking your head to the side to get your blood red hair out of your face. You really need to get it cut again. The strands aren’t supposed to be lower than your perfectly arched eyebrows. Your dad glares at you, and you blow a kiss at him, touching the cold metal on your nose and mouth as you do so.

    “I’m your father, and I’m also your ruler. Treat me with some respect or I’m throwing your sorry ass in the pit for a week.” Your dad threatens, causing you to roll your eyes. You know that your dad wouldn’t do that even if he lost his last nerve with you. Kill you then bring you back? Maybe. But throw you in the pit? Absolutely not. “Besides, you’re going to need to be proper for that stupid meeting coming up.” You freeze up at that. You whip your entire body around, nearly standing up.

    “What?” You ask, very nearly shout.

    “You heard me right. You’re coming with me to one of my meetings. You’re going to be the Queen of Hell when I die for good. Or retire. Either one works for me, really. You’ll need to know the figurative hell you’re going to have to prepare for that you’re going to deal with when you’re in charge.” Your dad says.

    “Dad, what the hell?!” You shout. Your dad snaps his fingers and all your piercings are out. Well, not the one in your tongue.

 

***

  
    Your dad gave up. He just glares at you throughout the meeting with the promise of pain if you so much as speak out of turn. You scowl and stick your tongue out at him, flashing your fangs and piercing. When your dad’s eyes flash red, you scowl and pay attention to the meeting again.


	111. Crowley 5, 7/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued once again**

 

    The next week you try to avoid the archangels as much as they try to go after you. You sigh as you wake up, jumping at the feeling of an arm draped over your waist. Once again, you’ve woken up surrounded by archangels. You shift around, but the grip on your hand and the hold on your waist are as strong as steel and show no sign of letting you go. You let out an annoyed huff before you push against a sturdy chest that sits in front of you. All that does is get Lucifer to wrap his arm around your back and pull you against him. Michael rolls over, letting go of you, but three of his wings appear over you and Lucifer.

    You make a face against the soft shirt in front of you, trying not to enjoy the pleasant mix of evergreen and cinnamon that assaults your senses. You struggle against the much stronger archangel that refuses to let go of you. You let out an embarrassing squeak when Lucifer wraps his arm around you entirely and twists, dragging you over him to the other side. He practically wraps himself around you, and you burry your head into his solid chest after making another embarrassing noise.

    Your face turns red quickly as a deep chuckle vibrates the chest that you're pressed against. You hit your hand against Lucifer’s chest, but he just tightens his grip with a smirk that you can feel against your head. A hand buries itself in your (Y/H/C)  locks.  You feel Lucifer growl more than hear him, and he doesn’t let you turn over to see who or what he’s growling at. You furrow your brows, but don’t turn around.

    “Nolite tangere eum/eam ( _Latin: Do not touch him/her_ ).”  Lucifer growls into your hair, obviously glaring at whoever with smoking eyes and nightmare wings. “Perdidisti vestra casus ( _Latin: You have lost your chance_ ).” You hear somebody start screaming at Lucifer in the same language, and you scowl as you recognize both the voice and the accent.

    “Hoc _non est_ super ( _Latin: This_ _is not_ _over_ ).” Crowley spits, and Lucifer manages to pull you even closer to him.

    “It quæ quidem completa ( _Latin: It has ended_ ).” Lucifer rumbles back, and when he presses two fingers against your forehead you pass out again.


	112. Destiel 4, 2/?

**This’ll basically be a Cinderella!Destiel thing if ya’ll want me to continue it**

 

    Castiel’s been hearing about the ball forever. It’s all about Dean Winchester, God’s right hand man. The angel more powerful than even Michael and Lucifer. And he needs a  _mate_. Well, he doesn’t need a mate. He needs to find  _his_  mate. Castiel hasn’t ever actually seen Dean. He’s heard his voice and Gabriel has described him, but that can only go so far. As Castiel sits on his shitty bed, the door is thrown open and Gabriel and Lucifer run in. Castiel lets out a terrified yelp when his arms are suddenly grabbed and he’s yanked to his feet.

    “What the hell are you doing?!” The angel shouts, electric eyes wide in fear and curiosity as he stares at his  _very_  strong and  _very_  intimidating brothers. Gabriel just grins at his younger brother, and Lucifer smirks. Their wings fly out of hiding and they take off, each one holding onto their brother’s arm.

    “Hello, sirs!” A woman greets the men as they land. Castiel glares at her before turning the look to his brothers.

    “Don’t mind him, he doesn’t like putting on outfits one after another. We’re under ‘Novak’.” Gabriel says, grinning widely. Castiel groans and drops his head to his chest, looking absolutely miserable.

    “Perk up, Cas. We’re taking you to the ball and you aren't going in  _that_.” Lucifer says, talking slowly and then motioning to the clothes that Castiel is wearing. The blue eyed angel gives his brother a withering look before sighing and accepting his fate. He knows he escape this no matter how hard he tries.

    “Alright.” Castiel mutters, and Gabriel smiles in synch with Lucifer. Lucifer’s  _smile_  even seems intimidating.

    “Here you are, sirs. The first open changing room is down that hallway and to the left.” The cashier helping the three says with a bright smile. She looks over Castiel and then holds up a camera with an unvoiced question. Lucifer nods and then Castiel is lifted between both him and Gabriel so they can get a ‘before’ picture.

    “C’mon, baby bro. You  _could_  be his mate. And you can cross all four of us off the list of possible mates, because we’ve all had meetings with him.” Gabriel says, nudging his brother with a small smile. Castiel just sighs and shakes his head.

    “Alright. Put this on and button everything up.” Lucifer says, “I can tie the tie for you. Hurry up.”

    “Chill.” Castiel mumbles before going into the dressing room. He takes his sweet time putting everything on. Gabriel groans and slams his head against the wall, and Lucifer slams his fist against the door in what he calls a knock.

    “Hurry up in there, Castiel. The dance is tonight.” Lucifer orders, and Cas rolls his eyes. He sighs, not even knowing what he looks like, and he pulls a hand through his unruly hair as he opens the door. (What he’s wearing will either be [linked](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRw&url=%2Furl%3Fsa%3Di%26rct%3Dj%26q%3D%26esrc%3Ds%26source%3Dimages%26cd%3D%26cad%3Drja%26uact%3D8%26ved%3D0CAcQjRw%26url%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.ebay.com%252Fitm%252F1X-Fashion-Mens-Formal-Fitted-Business-Suits-Tuxedo-Dress-Vests-Dress-Waistcoat-%252F111125515627%26ei%3DEOaEVcW1EoqtyAS0kJqwDQ%26bvm%3Dbv.96339352%2Cd.cGU%26psig%3DAFQjCNHqZ7M2nEvkgSc8a8WECIUowHEpDg%26ust%3D1434859390005874&ei=EOaEVcW1EoqtyAS0kJqwDQ&bvm=bv.96339352,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNHqZ7M2nEvkgSc8a8WECIUowHEpDg&ust=1434859390005874) or on the picture) There’s a few moments of silence as Lucifer and Gabriel stare at their brother, struck silent.

    “How bad does it look?” Castiel murmurs, tugging at the shirt he wears.

    “Holy  _shit_!”


	113. Destiel 4, 3/?

**This’ll basically be a Cinderella!Destiel thing if ya’ll want me to continue it**

Castiel mumbles angrily under his breath as he’s basically forced into his new clothes. “Hurry up, Castiel!” Gabriel shouts.

“Or what?” Castiel shouts back, glaring at the door to his small but perfectly clean room. He hears some shifting in the other room.

“Or I’ll come in there and force you into your clothes.” Castiel didn’t even know that Lucifer is in the other room. Of course he’s in the room. When is he ever more than four feet away from Gabriel?

“And I’ll help him.” Gabriel adds on. Castiel can hear his brother’s borderline evil smirk, and he scowls.

“Fine. Give me a few minutes to do the tie.” Castiel says, struggling with said piece of clothing.

“If that’s the only thing left get out here. We all know you have no idea how to tie a tie.”Gabriel says, causing Castiel to make a face and mimic him without the chance of getting punched in the arm.

“Come here.” Lucifer rumbles, grabbing his brother by his untied tie and bringing him towards him. He ties the piece of clothing quickly. “We’re gonna be late. C’mon.” Lucifer says before picking Castiel up bridal style and taking off.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” Said wide eyed angel almost screams, hands flying to his brother’s shoulders so he doesn’t fall and die. He can hear Gabriel cackling somewhere nearby and he flips said archangel off.

“We can’t trust you enough to think that you won’t fly off on us.” Lucifer says with a smirk, causing Castiel to scowl and hit his brother. Lucifer drops Castiel a few feet before they reach the dance, and Gabriel lands next to his blue eyed brother, flaunting his wings to staring angels as he wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulders.

“Nice to know you trust me so much.” Castiel mutters to his brother with a small glare aimed at his brother. Gabriel aims a genuine smile at his brother before shrugging and winking at an interested angel.

“Once we get you in the ball you won’t be able to get out until Dean dances with you at least twice.” Gabriel explains. “Unsheath your wings.”

“What?” Castiel almost shouts, staring at his brother with wide eyes. Gabriel looks at him with pity, knowing how he’s self conscious about his wings. Even if the gold eyed angel doesn’t understand why, he does his best to respect Castiel’s choices. He sighs before looking at a bouncer as they walk past, nodding to her when she motions to Castiel with a silent question. He then turns back to his brother.

“Look, I know you don’t like your wings, but it’s sorta a requirement when at a dance like this. Your mate will be attracted to your wings and you’ll be to his/hers. This isn’t just for Dean. The last ball that we had like this was before you even existed, Castiel. Lots of people are looking for their mates tonight. A lot of them are hoping it’s Dean.” Gabriel explains, and Castiel frowns. he grimaces before allowing his wings to slowly expand from his back. They’re big, the size of Gabriel’s, but they look small when Castiel folds them uncomfortably against his back.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Castiel mutters, sounding downright miserable. Gabriel frowns as he watches his brother put on a neutral expression. The angel’s  shoulders straighten and move back, and Castiel hesitantly hands the man taking jackets his tan trenchcoat. The angel smiles at him, greeting him briefly before Castiel is pulled forwards by his brother. Castiel brushes his brother off of him, practically terrified of the evil grin on the archangel’s face. “I’ll be by the bar.” Castiel murmurs.

“See you soon, baby bro!” Gabriel shouts with a smirk, heading off to find a certain six winged angel with green eyes and blonde hair.


	114. Chapter 114

**This’ll basically be a Cinderella!Destiel thing if ya’ll want me to continue it**

Castiel mumbles angrily under his breath as he’s basically forced into his new clothes. “Hurry up, Castiel!” Gabriel shouts.

“Or what?” Castiel shouts back, glaring at the door to his small but perfectly clean room. He hears some shifting in the other room.

“Or I’ll come in there and force you into your clothes.” Castiel didn’t even know that Lucifer is in the other room. Of course he’s in the room. When is he ever more than four feet away from Gabriel?

“And I’ll help him.” Gabriel adds on. Castiel can hear his brother’s borderline evil smirk, and he scowls.

“Fine. Give me a few minutes to do the tie.” Castiel says, struggling with said piece of clothing.

“If that’s the only thing left get out here. We all know you have no idea how to tie a tie.”Gabriel says, causing Castiel to make a face and mimic him without the chance of getting punched in the arm.

“Come here.” Lucifer rumbles, grabbing his brother by his untied tie and bringing him towards him. He ties the piece of clothing quickly. “We’re gonna be late. C’mon.” Lucifer says before picking Castiel up bridal style and taking off.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” Said wide eyed angel almost screams, hands flying to his brother’s shoulders so he doesn’t fall and die. He can hear Gabriel cackling somewhere nearby and he flips said archangel off.

“We can’t trust you enough to think that you won’t fly off on us.” Lucifer says with a smirk, causing Castiel to scowl and hit his brother. Lucifer drops Castiel a few feet before they reach the dance, and Gabriel lands next to his blue eyed brother, flaunting his wings to staring angels as he wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulders.

“Nice to know you trust me so much.” Castiel mutters to his brother with a small glare aimed at his brother. Gabriel aims a genuine smile at his brother before shrugging and winking at an interested angel.

“Once we get you in the ball you won’t be able to get out until Dean dances with you at least twice.” Gabriel explains. “Unsheath your wings.”

“What?” Castiel almost shouts, staring at his brother with wide eyes. Gabriel looks at him with pity, knowing how he’s self conscious about his wings. Even if the gold eyed angel doesn’t understand why, he does his best to respect Castiel’s choices. He sighs before looking at a bouncer as they walk past, nodding to her when she motions to Castiel with a silent question. He then turns back to his brother.

“Look, I know you don’t like your wings, but it’s sorta a requirement when at a dance like this. Your mate will be attracted to your wings and you’ll be to his/hers. This isn’t just for Dean. The last ball that we had like this was before you even existed, Castiel. Lots of people are looking for their mates tonight. A lot of them are hoping it’s Dean.” Gabriel explains, and Castiel frowns. he grimaces before allowing his wings to slowly expand from his back. They’re big, the size of Gabriel’s, but they look small when Castiel folds them uncomfortably against his back.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Castiel mutters, sounding downright miserable. Gabriel frowns as he watches his brother put on a neutral expression. The angel’s  shoulders straighten and move back, and Castiel hesitantly hands the man taking jackets his tan trenchcoat. The angel smiles at him, greeting him briefly before Castiel is pulled forwards by his brother. Castiel brushes his brother off of him, practically terrified of the evil grin on the archangel’s face. “I’ll be by the bar.” Castiel murmurs.

“See you soon, baby bro!” Gabriel shouts with a smirk, heading off to find a certain six winged angel with green eyes and blonde hair.


	115. Gabriel 6

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Gabriel trying to woo the reader, but Sam and Dean continuously ruin his attempts**

 

    “Hey (Y/N).” Gabriel greets casually, popping into existence next to you on the couch. You don’t let the archangel see that he nearly gave you a heart attack. Your surprise must have shown, because Gabriel smiles at you cheekily.

    “Yo.” You greet back, settling back into the couch. You roll your eyes as Gabriel winks at you, pretending to pay attention to your phone but really watching Gabriel as secretly as you can. The archangel shifts nervously, and it takes basically all your willpower not to raise a brow. You’ve known that Gabriel has been trying to do something all day, but Sam and Dean appear exactly when he’s about to do whatever he’s trying to do.

    “So, uh, I was in Europe a lot today.” Gabriel starts, and your eyes flicker up to the archangel just long enough for you to see him looking away and rubbing that back of his neck. What’s up with him today?

    “Oh?” You ask, prompting the golden eyed man to continue.

    “Yeah. And I, uh, I brought you back some presents.” Gabriel continues, almost slowly as he watches you closely for a reaction. You freeze up a bit before setting down your phone, shoving it in your pocket.

    “Really?” You ask, waiting for your best friend to continue.

    “Yeah. It’s some cool stuff. Like, uh, there’s these. They’re from Belgium.” Gabriel starts, pulling out an expensive looking, skinny box. It’s a vanilla white color with dark brown detailing and a bow of the same color on it. You can smell that it’s chocolate before he even briefly opens the box to show you what’s in it. “And there were these really vibrant  and I thought that maybe I can teach you how to make paint and things of the same color.” He pulls out a bunch of different colored roses. Some of them have patches of color on white petals. “And- and there was this store and there was this band that I thought would look good on you and-”

    Sam and Dean burst into the room the same time you practically jump Gabriel, shoving him into the couch under you.


	116. Charlie 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine meeting Charlie at Comic-Con**

 

    You cuss as your friend stumbles into somebody you can’t see behind his towering frame. “Chris! Dude I’m so sorry!” You shout at your friend then apologize to whoever he’s probably crushing. You pry Chris off of the person to see it’s a chick. A very hot chick. A very hot chick who just gave you a one over and then smirked a bit and oh god now you’re blushing.

    “It’s fine. He’s a bit of a hugger, isn’t he?” The woman asks, bright eyes boring into your (Y/E/C) pair. You duck your head a bit, trying to make your face less red somehow. You can  _feel_  the redhead smirking at you.

    “Yeah. Don’t let security find out he’s drunk off his ass. He got a bit too excited at a nearby bar. I’m not exactly sure how he got in, but he’s usually good at hiding how drunk he is. This is Chris, by the way. He’ll be sober-ish again in about half an hour.” You ramble, trying to get the woman’s intense focus off of you.  _Damn_  that smirk. It shouldn’t be affecting you as much as it is. The woman sees you trying to change the subject and smiles.

    “I’m Charlie.” She introduces herself, holding out a hand. You see the long sleeve and a slight outline and then smile.

    “(Y/N). Genderbent Wolverine?” You ask, motioning up and down her body. That you totally hadn't been staring at. At all. Nope. Not staring at it this very moment either.

    “Surprised you caught on. Genderbent Nightcrawler?” She motions down your body, not even trying to hide her lingering gaze. Your face turns red again, about fifty shades deeper than before.

    “Yeah.” You mumble, and you hear your best friend, (name), cackling somewhere in the background.

    “So, do you want to go get some dinner tomorrow? Maybe a drink or two after that?” Charlie asks, and your blush worsens at her tone.

    “I- uh, I’d like that.” You all but whisper, and Charlie’s smile is almost blinding.

    “Great! This is my number, text me your address and I’ll pick you up around four tomorrow.” Charlie writes a number on your hand in a black pen that appeared from basically nowhere. “See you tomorrow.” She winks before turning around and walking back to two towering men, both dressed as Avengers. You see Charlie jump a bit happily and fist bump the smaller one, which is at  _least_  six foot one.

    “Holy  _shit_.” You whisper, still red, as you turn to (best friend’s name) and Chris. Both of them are cackling and smiling at you. You cuss them out under your breath before stalking off towards the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face.


	117. Lucifer 4

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being Lucifer’s mate’s intended vessel**

 

    You swear as your phone slips out of your hand as some asshole rams into your side when he crosses the street. A large pale hand slips under your phone and catches it, and your head whips up. You jump at the pale eyes mere inches from yours, and you barely register when your phone is pressed against your still open palm. The an eyebrow above the pale eyes, and you try to snap out of whatever trance you’re in.

    “Thank you.” You say, eyes roaming over the man’s face. His pale lips are thin on top with a thicker,  _biteable_  your mind supplies, bottom lip. You blush a bit and close your hand around your phone when you realize it’s just sitting there. “Sorry.” You mutter, turning an even deeper shade of red as a deep chuckle escapes the man.

    “For what?” He asks, staring down at you. His soft looking lips pull into a smirk as you start stuttering. He leans a bit, and the man is basically towering over you. How tall  _is_  this guy?  _Tall enough to not disappoint you_. Your mind supplies again. The man’s smirk widens when your face becomes even more red.

    “For- for bumping into y-you?” It sounds like a question, and it’s probably because you’re too busy staring at the the dude’s sturdy frame. He seems like he’s about six foot one, and he looks well muscled even in that any layers of clothing. He has broad shoulders, and he’s proportioned almost perfectly. He’s in dark grey jeans, black combat boots, a black collared shirt, and a black trenchcoat.

    “Yes, that was quite rude.” The man talks slowly, and a small shiver runs laps up and down your spine as you listen to his deep voice. His eyes glint in a way that tell you that he’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you. “How can you ever make up for that?”

    “Uh…” Your voice is small, and it’s just barely above a whisper. The man smirks again, and it feels like all of your breath escapes you. How the  _hell_  is this dude affecting you with such  _simple fucking things_?!  
    “I think your name, number, and dinner tomorrow can make up for it.” The man continues in a casual tone, sounding like he’s talking about the weather. You nod, unable to speak, and almost stumble getting your phone out again. The man gives you his phone and you enter your info quickly. “Thank you.” He says, half-smiling.

    “Wait, who even are you? What’s your name?” You ask as you hand the man back his phone.

    “I’m Nick. Nick Pellegrino.” Nick  _finally_  introduces himself. For some weird reason, the name doesn’t feel right on your tongue when you repeat it quietly and to yourself.

    “I’m (Y/N).” You introduce.When the man walks away, you think you hear him say ‘I know’, but it’s probably just the wind carrying another conversation. Whatever.

    “I’ll see you at six o'clock sharp tomorrow, (Y/N).” Nick calls back to you, and you nod, completely forgetting that he can’t see you. You walk home in a confused, hazy daze.


	118. Michael/Reader/Lucifer 1, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader, a rebellious angel who knew Michael and Lucifer in the past, is alive during the apocalypse, and when Michael and Lucifer hear that the reader still lives, they chase the reader down and try to court them, continued again**

 

    When you wake up something cold binds your hands behind your back. You scowl, trying to fool the fear racing through you in towering waves that it doesn’t exist. You shift, feeling something soft brush against your wings. You recoil with a sound of fear. Directly into a solid chest. You very nearly scream when an arm wraps around you and pulls you closer against the chest. You escape the hold just in time to not be stuck against an archangel.

    You fall off the bed you were placed on, and you very nearly almost fall on your face. You roll when you hit the floor, and you stand up as soon as you can. When you turn you see that Michael had been on the bed with you, and he’s frowning, grasping for something. You kick the pillow you’d been lying on to him. The archangel wraps his arms around said pillow and brings it against his chest. You slowly and silently open the door to the room you’d been placed on. You turn around when the door is finally open enough for you to sneak out of. You don’t bother closing the door.

    You jump down the stairs instead of going down them, hitting the floor with a bang that makes you cuss. You do so again when the pain registers. It shoots up one of your legs like small bullets, and you very nearly start crying when you find that you can’t heal yourself. It’s a struggle, but you’re able to stand up and start racing through the mansion you’re trapped in at your top speed. It isn’t very fast because you stumble with every other step and fall twice. When you see the door, a hand slams down on your shoulder with more force than your broken leg is able to take.

    As you collapse, an arm sweeps at the back of your knees and another rests against your back. You have nowhere to go as Lucifer brings you close to his being, and your feeble pushing can only do so much. Lucifer mumbles in something older than enochian. You struggle against Lucifer until the pain in your leg is too much, and then you start to unwillingly vocalize your pain. Whimpers and groans take up the empty spaces of the archangels’ conversation, and you feel both of their eyes snap to you. Worry flashes across the bond, but it’s surly faked to make you trust the two.

    “Let him/her/them sleep.” Michael murmurs, staring at you with electric eyes and a pitiful expression full of sympathy.

    “Are you sure that he’ll/she’ll/they’ll wake up?” Lucifer mutters back, staring down at you.

    “We’ll heal him/her/them.” Michael replies. Lucifer shifts you a bit, and then he places two fingers against your forehead. In seconds, darkness overwhelms you and you and you pass out into blissful blackness.


	119. Destiel 4, 4/?

**This’ll basically be a Cinderella!Destiel thing if ya’ll want me to continue it**

 

    Gabriel pops up out of nowhere behind Dean, and the angel nearly spill his drink when the archangel’s hand slams onto his shoulder. “Gabriel what the hell?!” Said angel shouts, green eyes narrowed in mild annoyance that’s basically background noise to Dean whenever Gabriel is nearby.

    “Dean-o~ How’ve you been doing?” Gabriel asks, his face splitting smile enough to have Dean ordering another shot. It’s weak alcohol that the angel is drinking, and he has a high tolerance, so it’s going to take quite a few of these shots to get Dean even tipsy. Dean downs the shot he has now before turning to face his third in command.

    “What do you want?” Dean asks right away, a bit weary but not completely untrusting of that glint in Gabriel’s gold eyes. The archangel fakes shock and pain, putting a hand over his heart and a forearm over his eyes dramatically. Dean rolls his forest colored eyes at the show, and waits for Gabriel to get over himself.

    “That hurts, Dean. That hurts deep. One Caribbean Cruise, put like three cherries on it. Thanks!” Gabriel orders, and Dean rolls his eyes again. “If you keep doing that they’ll fall out. Then how are you supposed to see the man I’m trying to hook you up with?” Dean chokes on air at Gabriel’s words.

    “What?” Dean manages between hacking coughs. Gabriel raises a brow at him.

    “You have to dance with everybody anyways. Luci and I have given up our dances to him, too.” Gabriel says.

    “ _Lucifer_  is on board with this?!” Dean almost shouts, still choking a bit on nothing. Gabriel is obviously struggling not to laugh.

    “Actually, he was the one to plan all of this. I just hopped on board and sorta took the seat next to the conductor.” Gabriel says, slamming his hand into Dean’s back when the angel chokes again. “Jesus shit man,  _breath_.”

    “A bit difficult.  _Lucifer?_  As in, quiet but intimidating as hell, nearly emotionless Lucifer?” Dean asks between gasps.

    “Yes, one of your second in commands. That Lucifer. Anybody home in there?” Gabriel knocks on Dean’s head, causing the green eyed angel to scowl at him. Gabriel smiles back cheekily.

    “Alright. I’m on board. Who is he?” Dean asks, looking around and trying not to let Gabriel see his eyes catch on a  _delicious_  look man at the other bar. Apparently, he failed horribly.

    “The guy you just momentarily drooled over. AKA my little brother. Castiel. He hid his wings again, the fucker. C’mon.” Gabriel leads Dean through the masses of angels all trying to dance with the green eyed man. As he approaches Castiel, a scent like lavender and the taste of dark chocolate hits him head on, making him stumble a bit. Gabriel glances back at his friend and smirks knowingly. “Oh Castiel~”

    “Fuck.” Dean hears a fucking  _velvety_  deep voice say, and the source is obviously Castiel. “Hey Gabrie-” The angel cuts himself off when he sees Dean, his electric eyes going wide and his wings sliding into existence in about five seconds. “Shit I-I’m so sorry. I’ll pay to have it replaced.” He accidentally knocked over like four glasses. Dean stares down at the smaller angel, a smirk settling on his lips as he watches the other angel’s pale pair open a bit as he stares at Dean. Chocolate colored wings slide into existence behind Dean, and the angel tilts his head a bit.

    “Holy shit this man is gonna eat you alive… Have fun with five dances with him. Tata~” Gabriel smiles before snapping and disappearing. Dean thinks that the terrified but terribly interested expression that falls over Castiel’s face is adorable.


	120. Crowley 5, 8/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued once again**

 

    You sit in the corner, absolutely miserable with tissues on your right and a bucket on the left. You enter another coughing fit, and then you cuss wildly before retching again. By now you’re just dry heaving, because you never have a spare moment to tell the archangels what you can and can’t eat. You know that there are saltine crackers somewhere nearby, and a bottle of sprite somewhere close to it, but you have no idea where the hell they went. You may have accidentally launched them off to fucking Narnia when you threw off your blankets to actually throw up.

    “What do we do?” You hear Michael whisper to Lucifer. You scowl as you feel their eyes watching you.

    “I don’t know.” Lucifer replies, sounding a lot calmer. He’s probably reading a book or something. Ever since you arrived the archangels have been getting stronger and stronger. Who knows, maybe they’ll eventually be able to bust out.

    “Will he/she/they die?” Michael asks again, sounding even more worried. Lucifer sighs heavily through his nose.

    “No.”

    “How are you so sure?”

    “Because he/she/they would have said by now, “Lucifer, Michael, this is going to actually, legitimately kill me.” Or something along those lines. Not sure he/she/they can get out a sentence that long. Maybe just death.”

    “She’s/He’s/They’ve said that.”

    “Not literally.” Lucifer sounds like he’s about to beat the shit out of Michael. Good to know you’re not alone on that.

    “How would you know?”

    “Shut the hell up, I’m trying to sleep.” You finally snap, cursing as you actually throw up again. You scowl and wipe your mouth with the wet rag Lucifer tosses to you. You weakly toss it back, but it disappears before it hits the ground.

    “See? He’s/She’s/They’re fine.” Lucifer mumbles around what’s probably a cigar or cigarette. Michael makes an angry sound before turning around and stomping to the other couch. Lucifer pats your leg soothingly before returning to his book.

 

***

 

    “What the hell is/are he/she/they still doing in there?!” Crowley snaps at one of his most loyal demons.

    “My lord, please. The archangels have gotten too powerful. We’re unable to get (Y/N) out, we can’t even get  _in_. Sooner or later they’ll be able to break out of the cage.” The demon informs Crowley, watching the King of Hell with weary black eyes. Crowley screams in rage and throws a vase across the room.

    “You get (Y/N) out of there or so help me your’s will be the next skin hanging from my coat rack!” Crowley screams. The demon nods quickly and teleports out of the room quickly, barely escaping a flying chair.


	121. Lucifer 4, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being Lucifer’s mate’s intended vessel**

 

    You stare at the clothes in front of you with a look of panic. You’ve rummaged through your closet, dresser, and even got the clothes out of the dryer in time to find clothes you can wear to either a fancy diner or a ballgame. You scowl as you rummage through your pants again, eventually choosing dark grey jeans. You slip them on quickly and then put on your combat boots, lacing them up and tying them before you can change your mind. You then tug on a frame hugging black tank top.

    You frown at your over abundance of collared shirts. And they’re all different colors. Son of a bitch. You start picking some out of the pile, but then you make the mistake of looking at your phone. It’s 5:57. Oh shit. You quickly grab the nearest collared shirt and rush to the bathroom. You hurry to pull on the shirt and then fix your hair.

    You button up the shirt almost all the way, leaving the top three buttons undone. You then grab your black beanie and slick silver phone, slipping it into your back pocket as you rush downstairs. As you’re stuffing your wallet into the black leather jacket you picked, there’s a steady knocking on the door. You cuss as your zipper gets stuck on your shirt, so you unzip it and then zip it all the way as you open the door.

    “Hey.” You greet Nick with a smile, and he flashes a near blinding one back. You duck your head, and Nick chuckles.

    “Still a bit shy, I see.” Nick says, leaning against the doorframe. Not that it changes his height by much. The fucker is still towering over you like the titan he is. You scowl at the floor, waiting for your blush to lighten before you look up at Nick.

    “It’s not my fault that you look like a fucking god.” It comes out without you thinking, and you slap a hand over your mouth as your (Y/E/C) eyes widen tremendously.  _What the hell was that?!_

    “A bit confident today, hmm?” Nick asks, a corner of his mouth tugging up as his pale lips form a smirk. You stare at the ground, face completely red as Nick chuckles again. “C’mon. There’s a nice diner about fifteen minutes away. I think you’ll like it.” He then leads you to his expensive as fuck car. Dear god you’re already digging a hole too deep to escape. Your blush doesn’t worsen as you get into the car. Nick’s smirk is enough to tell you that.


	122. Team Free Will 5

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Castiel saving the reader, the Winchester’s little sibling**

 

    “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” You can hear Dean shouting in the other room. You don’t know why, Uncle Sammy is right here in your room. Right in front of your bed. He raises a finger to his lips in a sign that you remember from when you play hide and seek with Uncle Sammy and Uncle Dean.

    “(Y/N)?” You look at Uncle Sammy in confusion. He just talked, but his mouth didn’t move. That’s weird. You narrow your eyes at Uncle Sammy, not liking that his eyes are all shiny and milky looking. Wait, that isn’t his normal eye color. Uncle Sammy’s eyes are like olives and kaleidoscopes. Those eyes are like dandelions and whipped cream. You don’t think that Uncle Sammy has a twin…

    “Uncle Sammy?” You ask in your sleepy voice, rubbing your (Y/E/C) eyes as you stare at him.

    “C’mon, kiddo, drink up.” Not Uncle Sammy hands you your water cup, but the water looks more like strawberry syrup than water. You make a face at it and shake your head, putting it on your nightstand. Not Uncle Sammy scowls angrily, picking the cup back up and pushes it into your belly. “Drink it.” Not Uncle Sammy orders. That isn’t even Uncle Sammy’s voice anymore.

    “I don’t want it.” You whisper. Not Uncle Sammy growls and grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open and staring to tip the cup. “No! No! I don’t wanna drink strawberry syrup! No!” You shout, twisting around.

    “Cas! Castiel get your feathery ass down here! It’s  yellow eyes!” You hear Uncle Dean shout, his naughty word telling you that you’re in more danger than you thought at first. “Please!”

    “Uncle Cas!” You scream, spitting out some of the red stuff when it drips into your mouth. You make a face and gag as more is poured in. Suddenly, there’s nothing being poured into your mouth anymore. You spit out the gross stuff that taste like old pennies, puking all over your recently cleaned bed. Uncle Cas is suddenly there, and you see his silver stick inside Not Uncle Sammy’s back. Uncle Cas picks you up quickly, kicking open the door that Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean had been pounding on.

    “It’s okay. It’s okay, honey/buddy.” Dean whispers, taking you from Cas when he offers you to him. You cling to Uncle Dean, crying because the taste is still in your mouth and you’re scared and your tummy hurts.

    “You’re safe now, (Y/N). The man isn’t going to hurt you anymore.” Uncle Cas tells you as Uncle Dean passes you to Uncle Sammy. You bury your head into Uncle Sammy’s chest, and you fall into darkness a few minutes later.


	123. You 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being the one to find the Impala after the boys are long gone, and the archangels and Castiel watch because they all know what happened is likely to repeat**

 

    You saw her for the first time when taking the bus to your stop to walk home. Your brother couldn’t see the beauty hidden behind dust and mud and grime, but you saw right through it to the sleek car with memories rubbed into every inch. When you first approached her, you heard a hum like electricity and tingles shot through you when you opened her door. Sure, it smelled like dust and borderline decay when you sat in her, but look at her now that you’ve replaced the rotting leather seats. The visions that she gives you when you sit in her driver's seat are so intense you always come up for air with tears in your eyes and something akin to lead in your heart.

    You wipe your eyes again as you head to her trunk, keeping the trunk up on a shotgun that had been carefully laid across the trunk. You open the hidden hatch, finding it unlocked with all the weapons from your visions in place. You pick up a picture with shaky hands, staring at the men who looked more and more worn down in each picture. Perfect teeth, well built bodies, obviously strong men too. About half way through a man with dark hair, a tan trenchcoat, and electric eyes joins the two men named Sam and Dean.

    Sam was taller than Dean, and you can only guess he’s around six foot five or four. His hair is long and a dark brown, sometimes going almost past his shoulders in the front. His eyes are a kaleidoscope of colors, but in the slowly yellowing photos they look olive colored. He looks more muscular than Dean, and he has a strong jawline. The crinkles around his eyes when he smiled in the first photos seem to have been replaced with bags under his eyes in the later ones. You frown a bit as you look at the others.

    Dean was probably around six foot, six foot one. His eyes are the greenest pair you’ve ever seen, and his smile is long gone in more recent photos. It was probably his cassette tapes you found in a beat down box with peeling masking tape in the back seat. Dean’s hair was sometimes spiky, sometimes combed over and a dirty blonde that could probably be mistaken for an ash brown color. In every picture he isn’t aware was taken, he’s looking at Sam protectively. So, they were brothers. They died together, too. There’s a few other pictures that you can only assume of are their mom and dad and of them when they were young.

    You straighten up when the hair on the back of your neck stands up. Before shutting the trunk, you grab the pair of keys hidden among the weapons. You slowly look around, trying to find whoever’s watching you. Whoever it is, it isn’t human. A demon, maybe? Shapeshifter? No, these are multiple pairs of eyes and they don’t seem hostile at all to just a bit angered. You slide into the driver’s seat, slipping the keys into the ignition and turning the keys. You nearly lose all your breath at the heavenly purr of the ‘67 Impala. While you pull away from where the car has been parked for  _years_ , you can’t help but wonder how it has a full tank of gas and how it runs almost perfectly.

    You also don’t see the group of angels and demons and all kinds of monsters watching you from different areas as you speed away like a Winchester, causing the corners of Castiel’s mouth to turn up as he flies after you invisibly.


	124. You 1, 2/?

_Wow this chapter ended up like decent sized_

****_  
  
(Y/N) = Your Name_

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being the one to find the Impala after the boys are long gone, and the archangels and Castiel watch because they all know what happened is likely to repeat, continued**

 

        You wake up to your brother screaming and pounding on the door to your hotel room. You try to shoot onto your feet, but some terribly strong force stops you from doing  _anything_. You buck your hips, trying to twist out of whatever hold something has on you. You struggle to turn your head the millimeter it takes for your wide (Y/E/C) eyes to  see the milky yellow pair staring at you. You open your mouth to scream for (sibling’s name) to run and not look back, but something you can’t see stops you from speaking or closing your mouth completely.

        “Ah ah ah… That’s not how it’s going to go.” A deep voice says. A man who’s all too familiar steps out of the shadows. You recognize him only from pictures, but you still know it’s him. Well, not him. Some scarily powerful demon imitating his face and body and probably his expressions.

        He’s a heavyset man with no hair on his head and expressive dark eyebrows. His collared shirt matches his eyes when he flickers them to the man’s original dark color, but they switch back to yellow quickly. “(Y/N)!” Your brother screams, and the door shakes as he kicks it. It does so again as he rams it with his shoulders. He already knows something awful is going on when you don’t respond and the flimsy door stubbornly refuses to budge.

        “Say ‘ah’.” The man’s voice is deep. Of course it’s deep. Your mom always said that everybody your dad cared for had deep voices. Even though she’d only known your dad for a few months, and about a week again a few years later, she seemed dead set on that fact. Your dark/pale eyes widen and you struggle. You fail to scream even when your body is held down by the force you can’t see either.

        “(Y/N)!  _(Y/N)!_ ” Your brother screams at the top of his lungs. How nobody seems to be woken by that would be a mystery. However, the man standing above you is probably the answer to your unasked question. Your manage to get out a groan of pain as the force holding you still very nearly crushes you. The door shakes again as your brother tries desperately to get in and save you. Little does he know that that’s the exact opposite of what you want him to do.

        You manage to twist your body away a bit as a silver knife is pulled out of nowhere. The man who you think’s name is Samuel Campbell or something similar smirks at you dangerously. He then pulls the blade across his open palm harshly. The man- the  _demon_  pulls in air from between clenched teeth in a reluctant gasp of pain. You cuss wildly in your head, trying desperately to  _squirm_  or  _move_  or just  _do fucking something_. The man sighs as he clenches his bleeding fist, and then he nears you.

        You try so hard to spit the blood out. You try because your life could very well end if you swallow it. But instead something forces it down your throat as the crimson continues being poured into your mouth. You rush to the bathroom when the man, isn’t he your great grandpa or something? You aren’t sure. You think the vessel is… Whoever he is, he disappears and so does the force holding you down. No matter how  hard you try, you can’t throw up. You wash your mouth quickly, but then you hear a bloodcurdling scream from your room.

        You cuss wildly as you run into the room, finding a light haired woman pinned to the ceiling with a look of horror. You stare at her, and you try to rush to her and get her down, but just as you near her you’re thrown back. Orange and red and yellow explodes behind her and the heat hits you like a car. You stare in horror at the woman with the cut gut as she screams as she burns. You apologize beneath your breath before grabbing your bags and kicking open the door. Your brother stares at you with wide eyes.

        “Do you have your shit?”

        “Yeah.” He motions to his duffle bags.

        “Pull the fire alarm!” You shout at him.

        “What?”

        “Do it!” He does as orders, and then he gets a glance inside your room. “Is that-”

        “Run!” You shove him on his way as the room practically explodes behind the both of you. You don’t even wait for the fire department or the police to show up before tossing your shit in the back of the impala and taking off at high speeds.


	125. Destiel 5

_I'm working on making these a bit longer..._ ****  
  
A destiel and sabriel High School AU  
  
        Cas wakes up thirty minutes early again, and he scowls before remembering that he should at least wash his hair. Castiel sighs heavily through his nose before he rolls out of bed, landing on his feet quite gracefully. Gabriel watches him with a raised brow, the newest edition of  _Busty Asian Beauties_  on the corner of the couch. “What are you doing in my room?” Castiel asks automatically, making Gabriel roll his eyes.

        “I  _was_  going to scare you, but I forgot your nightmares are back and are waking you up early again.” Gabriel mumbles, leaving the room when Castiel yells at him to do so. ”Foods on the table today. You’re eating for your first day of Senior year. I’m not letting you leave the house before you do.” Castiel scowls at the door when it closes, grumbling under his breath about overprotective older brothers and how much he isn’t hungry. The man takes off his boxers, the only thing he sleeps in, and hops in the shower.

        As Castiel stands under the warm spray of constant water pressure, he slams his head into the tiled wall in front of him. He knows that this year won’t be nearly as bad as last year, but he can’t help the way his stomach flips whenever he thinks of his junior year. The year he came out. The year of bullying and self hate and depression. Castiel has defeated the depression, but his shit body image refuses to go away. He worked out the entirety of junior year, but it was during the summer that he became fit. His muscles are defined, his skin is perfectly tanned, but he can’t help but hate what he sees in the mirror.

        The huge navy blue wings that cover his entire back and down to his wrists with the last feather tips are a reminder of the day he didn’t wake up and think about his razor. Gabriel had payed for it, and Castiel still doesn’t think that he’s thanked his brother enough times for understanding how important the wings are to him. Of course, his brother has his own golden pair so it makes sense that he’d understand. He’s got six wings on his back, three stacked on each side and they all wrap around to Gabriel’s stomach and chest. He decided to break the tattoo design all his brothers had stuck with in favor of the huge double wings. Not that anybody at school knows how different he is. Least of all the man who made him realize he was gay all the way back in sixth grade, and of course Dean Winchester gets more and more attractive each year.

        Castiel only comes out of the shower when Gabriel pounds on the door yelling about being late and showing off the motorcycle he got. And his muscles because you know, of course Gabriel knows about Dean Winchester and his massive attraction to him. Gabriel you little- “Hurry  _up_  Castiel!” Cas scowls before turning off the water, scrubbing the water off of his body with a soft towel roughly. As Castiel wanders back into his room he finds his bag already packed with his clothes for the day, a lunch, his needed materials, and both his running shoes and his combat boots. Which are much different than his heavy bike riding boots.

        Castiel pulls on his running clothes, a pair of shorts essentially, and then he pulls on jeans and his riding jacket that just so happens to have the superman symbol on the front. Castiel then pulls his boots on and rushes downstairs, making sure he has everything before he tries to leave. Only, Gabriel stands in front of the door. Cas scowls before trudging back to the dining room and eating his pancakes and bacon quickly. He then grabs his water bottle and runs back outside, getting on his bike and pulling away quickly before Gabriel tries to get him to eat another helping of breakfast.

        It takes Castiel only five minutes to get to school because honest to god who actually goes the speed limit when they have a fast vehicle? Castiel parks in his assigned spot, and then he gets off, tugging off his helmet and heading for the track. He scowls as he sees the football team there, and he pulls off his extra clothes. He tries to ignore the students watching him as he shoves on his sunglasses and peels off the shirt he already sweated through because of his jacket. Dear god is he happy that he packed his deodorant even though he already put some on. He stretches first, but when the feeling of eyes on him gets too awkward for him to just stretch in about one place bending this way and that. He starts with his jog, which is actually quite fast now that he’s thinking about himself judgingly again.

        He scowls as the football players start jogging again in their warm ups, but Castiel doesn’t have a problem staying about thirty feet in front of them all and making that distance even longer with each stride. He sees a player start running, trying to catching up with him, so he also starts running. He doesn’t mean to start lapping the players, but he does twice before he’s done with what he wanted to do with stamina. He heads off to the side, doing sit ups as he tries to not watch the football players jogging. He does push ups afterwards then heads to the showers to clean off the morning workout in ninety-five degree weather.

        Cas twists at the last seconds while leaving the shower to avoid running into a certain superhumanly attractive quarterback. “Oh, uh, sorry.” Castiel mumbles, any social skills he has disappearing in a matter of seconds. Dean looks him up and down a few times, and Castiel’s blush travels down his neck and starts staining his chest. Dean raises a brow.

        “Castiel? Castiel Novak?” Dean asks, and Castiel’s heart nearly stops beating at how his name sounds rolling off of Dean Winchester’s tongue. Said tongue flickers out to wetten a bitable lower lip.

        “Yeah.” Cas murmurs, preparing for a round of teasing. Instead of that, though, Dean breaks out in a smile.

        “Holy shit, man! You’ve filled out! How tall were you last year? And you were, what, this big?” Dean asks, marking Castiel’s height and then bringing his hands together to show the size of Castiel’s hips last year. Cas is taken by complete surprise that  _Dean Winchester_  paid enough attention to him last year to know how tall and skinny he was last year. “Have you been taking steroids?” Dean’s face gets serious suddenly, and Castiel quickly shakes his head.

        “No, no ‘roids. I was- uh, I was working out all of junior year and during the summer, but it didn’t show until a few months ago. I think mid-June is when muscles started showing.” Castiel mutters, mouth running and giving more information than needed as usual. Again, instead of teasing him Dean smiles at Castiel and pats his back, causing tingles to run through Castiel’s body like adrenaline.

        “I’m happy for you man! I wish I filled out in a few months. God, it took forever.” Dean complains, still smiling a bit as he stares at Castiel. Neither of them seem very aware of exactly how close together they both are.

        “Thanks…” Castiel murmurs, managing not to comment on how Dean’s been athletic and muscular since eighth grade.

        “Alright. I better go shower so I don’t stink in class. See you later, Cas.” Dean says with one last smile and a pat on Castiel’s shoulder. He then disappears into the nearest showering stall and closes the curtain, remembering how Castiel is gay and he probably wouldn’t like the possibility of him peaking on him while he’s changing. Castiel quickly changes into dark jeans, his black combat boots, and a white button up shirt that he leaves the top three buttons undone to. He loosely pulls on a dark blue tie, and he knows he pulls it off as he rolls up his sleeves. He slips on his glasses last and then pulls a hand through his damp hair before leaving the locker room, his dark blue backpack slung over his right shoulder.


	126. You 1, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being the one to find the Impala after the boys are long gone, and the archangels and Castiel watch because they all know what happened is likely to repeat, continued again**

 

        Your brother just lets himself into your room like the asshole he is. When you tell him the status the action got him, you get a kind ‘fuck yourself’. You roll your eyes before sitting up on your bed, seeing your brother holding a huge book different than the one in your lap. “Find anything?” You ask a bit groggily, scratching your jaw as the stupid mosquito bite you got like two days ago starts acting up again.

        “Yeah.” (Brother’s name) replies, yawning soon after. “There’s an eyeshine effect caught on this camera. I mean, we still can’t see their face but at least we’ve narrowed it down.” You narrow your eyes a bit as you watch the video your brother pulls up on the laptop that belongs to  _you_.  _Excuse_  him he has his  _own_  laptop.

        “Yeah, narrows it down to about like fifty things.” You grumble, turning back to your book. (Brother’s name) rolls his eyes at you, but you ignore him in favor of taking a swig of cheap beer and turning back to your book. You sigh heavily, pulling a hand through your hair before watching the video on repeat, sometimes slowing it down until you can finally see something shift in the person’s grinning mouth. You pause in the swig you’re about to take from the beer again, replaying the video.

        “What is it?” (Brother’s name) asks, glancing at you as he notices you’ve stopped drinking in order to intently focus on the video. You hold up your hand in a ‘hold up’ gesture as you replay the video once again.

    “I know what we’re hunting.” You mutter before slamming your laptop shut and rummaging through your bag, pulling out warm vials filled with crimson liquid. (Brother’s name) narrows his eyes at you before catching on.

        “A vampire?” He asks, watching you start to coat arrows in dead man’s blood.

        “More than one, you moron. How could one vamp do so much damage to one town in only three weeks?” You snap back, pulling more shit out of your bag so you can create that one ash-like powder thing that hides your scent decently. You grab the saffron, skunks cabbage, and trillium from your bag.

        “Why the hell do you have that stuff?” (Brother’s name) asks, staring at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows.

        “In case we had to hunt vampires.” You state because isn’t it obvious? You burn the stuff quickly and then coat (Brother’s name) in it and then yourself. You then grab your weapons, and then you make sure that (Brother’s name) has his shit before going down the stairs silently and getting into the impala. You’ve known where the vampire has been hiding, but you and your brother haven’t been able to hunt it down because until like just now you hadn’t known what it was.

        You park the impala a few blocks away and walk the rest of the way, weapons either hidden or in hand. Your crossbow is what you’re holding onto when you kick open the barn door. You’re able to shoot five vampires with dead man’s blood soaked arrows and (Brother’s name) is able to hit three before the rest launch themselves at the two of you. You cuss as you duck, pulling out a machete and slicing the head off the next one to launch herself at you. Her head rolls and her body drops in front of you.

        Your brother shouts for you to duck and he throws his machete. You toss him yours in time for him  _not_  to die, and you grab the blade already pinning the vampire to a wooden beam by his neck. You yank out the machete but cut off the vampire’s head before he can kill you. You gasp in pain when you’re suddenly slammed into. You gasp for air as a hand wraps around your throat before you’re violently slammed against the nearest wall. You see (Brother’s name) cut off another head before he pauses when he sees you. That’s enough time for a vampire to ram him and cause him to hit his head against the wall with a sickening  _crack_. You get slammed against the wall again, and the world quickly goes black.

        When you wake up again, you’re strapped to a chair and your head is hanging forwards, your chin touching your chest. (Brother’s name) stupidly lets out a groan of pain, and the following  _smack_  tells you somebody probably bitch slapped him. You silently move your hand, and you feel the almost non existent weight still there. You shake your hand a bit until the blade falls into your hand without a sound. You slowly lift your head and glare at the vampire ducking down in front of you. Dark hair, dark eyes, big eyebrows, and fangs out that are ready to sink into your neck. How fucking cliche.

        You’re cutting the ropes holding you still slowly, making sure to keep your heartbeat and breathing as even as possible as you send a glare at the vampire that could probably put him six feet under. “All you can eat buffet, huh?” You ask, talking about the town that the vampire chose to dine on. It’s always sort of been something that you do when you’re about to die. Talk a lot and hope you can figure out what the hell you’re going to do so you  _don’t_  die.

        “You have no idea.” The man chuckles. “Nobody seems to have family out of the town, and anybody who comes looking for me gets either turned and sent on their family or drained. Usually they get drained.” The vamp says, causing you to scowl as your eyes flicker over to the  _pile of dead bodies_  in the corner of the room.

        “Really? Didn’t notice.” You comment casually, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at the scene. You finally cut through the ropes, and you catch them before they hit the ground with a  _thud_. You quietly put them down, but the vampire seems to hear it. His brows furrow and you kick him square in the chest. He stumbles back long enough for you to roll to the floor on a shitty ankle and grab your machete. You cut off his head as he lunges at you, and quietly kill the others who had been sleeping or unaware you got free.

        “You good?” (Brother’s name) asks.

        “Peachy you grunt, cutting his ropes with your machete.  “Let’s go find where these fanged bastards put our stuff.”


	127. Gabriel 6, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Gabriel trying to woo the reader, but Sam and Dean continuously ruin his attempts**

 

    “Yo.” You greet Gabriel without looking up from your book. You’ve managed to find the distinct difference in the flutter of wings when he arrives and when Cas arrives. You hear the archangel pause in surprise.

    “Hey.” He greets after a few minutes. You smile a bit at your book, almost certain that the golden eyed man can’t see you from where he’s standing. “How’d you know I arrived?” Gabriel sounds genuinely curious.

    “I know that sound of your wings. What’s up, Gabe?” You ask, putting down your book as you turn to face the archangel.

    “I was, uh-” You hide a smile as you recognize his tone of voice. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t around or if they know of his plans. You make a motion for him to continue, and both of you glance at the door in worry. “I was wondering if you’d like to  go to the carnival with-”

    “NO!” Dean shouts, busting open the door with a sturdy kick. You jump, a hand flying to your heart. You and Gabriel glare at the brother with equally pissed stares, and Sam sort of stumbles in behind him. His sigh of relief when he realizes Gabe didn’t ask yet makes you narrow your eyes even more.

    “Why the hell not?” You snap at your older brother. Dean turns his angry green eyes to you before snapping them back to Gabriel.

    “In case you’ve forgotten, this bastard killed me, what, a hundred and something times?” Dean asks, eyes never leaving Gabriel. Both you and the archangel scowl again, watching your oldest brother.

    “In case you’ve forgotten, he didn’t kill  _me_.  _Also_ , if you’ve forgotten, he’s made it up to you. With, ya’ know, saving your ass uncountable times, saving  _Sam’s_  ass uncountable times, and poofing basically anything you want into existence.” You snap back, motioning to Gabriel as you continue glaring at your eldest brother.

    “I-” Dean looks frustrated as he says, “I honestly can’t think of a comeback for that and it’s pissing me off.”

    “Good, which means it’s okay. Hurry and ask.” You turn to Gabriel, saying everything in one breath.

    “Will you go to the carnival with me?” He asks just as quickly.

    “N-”

    “Yes! Let’s go!” You shout, cutting Sam off. Gabriel smiles genuinely before grabbing your arm and teleporting you to the carnival. You smile at each other before Gabriel drags you over towards the rides and games.

    “I’m going to win you so many teddy bears.” Gabriel smirks. You smile in response, allowing the archangel to lead the way.

 

***

 

    You’ve just gotten off of the last ride, the ferris wheel, and you’re dragging a garbage bag bursting with prizes when the teenager approaches the both of you. His glasses are wide framed and his camera hangs from his neck. “This is- This is probably really embarassing, but- uh, would you two mind, er, posing for a picture?” He asks, face flushing a bright red. Gabriel smirks, making the boy blush harder. You smack him in the arm. “It’s just, uh, you two make a really nice couple and the lights and positions are perfect. And you can… You can see what’s in the bag because of how full it is and-”

    “We’ll pose for you, man. Don’t worry about it.” Gabriel says, winking at you when you flush a bit. The boy thanks you about fifteen times, both you and Gabriel assuring him that it’s an honor.

    “Alright. Uh, you stand here, and can you stand here?” You and Gabriel allow the boy to reposition the both of you. He unties the tie you have on and hands it to Gabriel, and Gabriel gladly does as the boy asks. He wraps both ends of the tie around his hand a few times and tugs, making you bend down to his level. The mischievous glint must be perfect, because the boy has you hold that position for a few pictures. He then makes you lean down for a kiss as he places the bag of rewards against your leg.. Just before your lips touch he snaps a picture, and a millisecond later you’re tugged away by a furious Dean Winchester.


	128. Gabe/Dean/Cas 1, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean needs to see hellhounds again, but the glasses have an unexpected added feature; they allow Dean to see angel wings, continued again**

 

    Sam realizes what’s going on before Dean does, and  he can’t even see the angel’s and archangels wings. The closeness, the demand that Dean is constantly able to see their wings, and presents. Castiel and Gabriel are  _courting his older brother_. He knows that Dean isn’t completely clueless as to what’s going on. However, it’s more in a ‘they're going to want something in return for all the things they’re doing for me’ way. Which, to be honest, isn’t that far off from the truth when you think about it. In response to all the gifts, affection, and trust Dean is expected to be their mate.

    Dean is sitting on the couch, jumping when he hears the telltale flutter of wings behind him. He desperately tries to ignore the goosebumps that appear in a wave over his body when a feather casually brushes against the back of his neck. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop the small shiver that runs down his entire body at the action. He can feel a pair of intense eyes staring at him, and when Sam makes a motion like he’s measuring something small he knows it’s Gabriel behind him. “Hey, Dean.” Gabriel greets casually, disappearing and then reappearing on the couch next to the older Winchester brother. “Mind if I borrow him for a bit?”

    “Yeah.” Sam you fucking  _traitor_. Dean sends a wide eyed glare to his brother before a hand settles on his shoulder and he’s teleported away. Dean barely has time to even struggle before he’s let go. The Winchester falls onto the foot of a bed, and he realizes only a few seconds later that Castiel is asleep on said bed. Dean moves to stand up, but he ends up face to face with Gabriel, and he backs up awkwardly, sitting on the bed heavily when his legs hit the end of it. Dean shuffles back a bit, but his back hits a sturdy chest and only then does he realize that he’s run into Castiel. And that he’s sitting between the angel’s thighs. The Winchester flushes a bright red, but he doesn’t really have anywhere to go.

    “What the hell?” Dean eventually mumbles, failing at playing stupid. His eyes widen a bit when wings move to somewhat trap him where he is. Dean would back up or move forwards, but he only really has the option of leaning against one angel. At least he knows that Castiel is less likely to whisper things in his ear that makes him feel violated but also craving something he wouldn’t admit to himself.

    “Don’t play dumb, Dean. You know why you’re here. We’re asking for your consent to continue courting you before this gets any more serious. We refuse to chase after a mouse so far ahead of us.” Gabriel says, his voice deep and his tone dark in a way that makes another shiver roll down Dean’s spine. A shiver that Castiel can feel and probably trace the path of. Dean redens a bit more at the thought, ducking his head.

    “ _What is he thinking?_ ” Castiel asks in enochian, causing Dean to stiffen a bit. He still refuses to look up, but Gabriel  _is_  an archangel. He knows exactly what the hunter is thinking and how he’s feeling right now.

    “ _Nothing bad. At least, nothing bad for us._ ” Gabriel responds, taking careful note of how the two of them speaking their first language affects Dean. The archangel leans closer into Dean’s space, hearing his breath catch as Castiel feels his heartbeat pick up. Not in fear, Gabriel would’ve stopped by now if it was fear. “Dean.” Gabriel says, this time in English. The way Dean reacts proves just how well he’ll fit in with the dominant and quite possessive angel and archangel.

    “Hmm?” Dean asks almost automatically. Castiel rubs soothing circles on the inside of his wrist, quite happy to be near Dean since Gabriel usually hogged him. Gabriel tilts his head a bit to the side as he watches Dean relax.

    “You know what I asked. I expect you to answer.” Again with Dean flushing darker red and his heartbeat picking up.

    “Uh… Not no.” Dean mumbles, obviously having a problem with admitting what he considered defeat. If he says yes, then he has to admit that he has actual feelings and romantic emotions towards the celestial beings surrounding him. Gabriel smirks a bit, leaning in so there’s only a few centimeters of space between him and Dean.

    “We’re angels, Dean. Consent is everything.” Gabriel’s voice sounds as smug as his expression, and Dean scowls at the bed. Gabriel grabs his chin and pulls his face up so his gold eyes can bore into Dean’s green pair. “Can we continue courting you?”

    “Yes.” Dean will never admit to anybody that he sounded even the slightest bit breathless when he answered. Gabriel smiles genuinely for the first time in a while.

    “Great. See you soon, Dean-o.” Gabriel says before snapping. Dean reappears in the living room, looking shaken as he stares at his brother with wide eyes. Sam can’t help but start laughing his ass off at his brother’s expression. Of course, Dean quickly leaves to sulk in his room again.


	129. Destiel 5, 2/?

**A destiel and sabriel High School AU**  
  
    Castiel sits in the back of the room, sketching things in his notebooks to understand what his teacher is trying to teach better. He’s always been more of a visual learner than just taking notes. Different parts of his notes are written in different colors, and some words are stuck together in different shapes. “Balls. I forgot to do attendance.” Mr.Singer grumbles under his breath. He looks around the room, and Castiel can feel his eyes stop on him. “Is Castiel Novak here?” He asks, causing Cas to sigh.

    “Here.” Cas mumbles when people look around. He hesitantly raises his hand and then puts it down when Mr.Singer’s eyes stop on him again.

    “You’ve filled out, boy.” Mr.Singer states, much to Castiel’s embarrassment. Cas just nods, and he hears his best friend snicker next to him.

    “Yeah. Puberty hit him like a train.” Charlie comments, quite loudly too. Castiel turns a bright red, and it deepens when Dean Winchester glances back at him with a raised brow. He waves at Charlie, and Castiel’s best friend does so back.

    “You  _know_  him?” Castiel hisses under his breath, turning back to his notes. Charlie smirks at him.

    “I’m practically his sister, Castiel. Get with the times.” Charlie whispers back, causing Cas to scowl and shoot her a nearly heart stopping glare. Charlie actually leans back a bit, but she stops when Mr.Singer sees her and raises a brow in her direction. Castiel angrily turns to the next page of the book, all the while ignoring Charlie as she tries apologizing for not telling him about her friendship with Dean Winchester.

***

    Dean’s gotta admit, Castiel filled out so amazingly he’s at a god level of attractiveness. Sure, Dean found the skinny and shy and  _tiny_  Castiel cute, but he finds the Castiel with back muscles and stubble and an easily embarrassed personality fucking _hot_. Dean glances back at Castiel when Bobby calls his name, smirking as the brunette turns a deeper shade of red when he looks. Dean waves at Charlie, holding up three fingers in the signal of ‘you’re telling me everything you know about this boy’. Charlie nods subtly, and Dean sees Castiel turn to hiss something at his friend. Charlie’s practically been adopted by the Winchesters anyways.

    She lives at the Winchester household most of the time, because it isn’t safe for her at her house with her abusive step-father and alcoholic mother. Hell, Dean is pretty sure that Charlie hasn’t actually been to her house for a year and a half at least. Dean smiles down at his paper as Castiel ignores Charlie as she tries to apologize for something petty. He probably knows about Charlie’s forgetful behavior. If it doesn’t have something to do with one of her ships or one of her fandoms, Charlie doesn’t remember things a lot. Dean turns all the way around again, nodding a bit at Bobby when he raises a brow at him.

    Basically everybody considered a member of the Winchester family can speak without words. Some days it’s silent in the Winchester house, but everybody could have had fifteen conversations in the same house the same day. It’s pretty amazing, if Dean says so himself. Dean sighs as he turns the page, pulling a hand through his hair. The Winchester honestly has problems with only  _this_  subject. Maybe he can get Charlie to convince Castiel to be his tutor? It would give him a chance to see how much of a chance he has with Castiel, and he might no fail this subject, too.

    At lunch Charlie abandons Dean and Sam for Castiel, but she still texts with the older Winchester brother.

     **Hey -D.W.**

**Yo. -Cosplay Queen**

**So -D.W.**

**You’re friends with Castiel? -D.W.**

**No, I just like abandoning my very popular brother for some stranger I met this morning. Yes, I’m friends with Castiel. I’ve been his friend since seventh grade dumbass. -Cosplay Queen**

**Seventh grade? -D.W.**

**Seventh grade. -Cosplay Queen**

**Does he like parties? -D.W.**

**He’s thrown quite a few. He shows up to a lot too. Not alot of people really noticed him before tho. -Cosplay Queen**

**A lot**. -Cosplay Queen**

**He reading over your shoulder rn? -D.W.**

**Nah. He’s across the table and he isn’t that rude. IDK how he survives without wanting to know what others are doing. Why? -Cosplay Queen**

**Do you think he’d want to tutor me for History? -D.W.**

**Yeah. -Cosplay Queen**

**Dude did you even ask him? -D.W.**

**Don’t need to. He’ll do it. Don’t ask how I know. I’ll give him your number so you two can talk it out. His number is 127-3651 btw. -Cosplay Queen**

**Alright. Thanks man -D.W.**

**No problem. Peace out, bitch. -Cosplay Queen**

**Later -D.W.**


	130. Winchester Brothers 6

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine protecting a young Sam from bullies, immediately getting Dean’s attention focused on you afterwards**

 

        You knew that Travis and his group were about to fuck someone up as soon as Travis got that glint in his eyes. You waited for the group to start moving before heading in the same direction quickly. You see the group surround a somewhat small boy who’s obviously only in either sixth or seventh grade. You appear in front of the boy just as a fist is thrown. The boy’s arms fly up as he lets out a sound of fear, and you catch the fist in a crushing grip. A malicious glint appears in your (Y/E/C) eyes before you squeeze harder on the fist before tugging forwards and up. You flip Travis over your shoulder, and a sickening crack sounds from behind you when the teen’s arm breaks.

        You duck quickly, grabbing the boy you're defending by the arm and tugging him to your other side. The foot scratches your shoulder as it heads back towards the ground, but you twist and grab the leg quickly. You do a full body twist, and the other teen slips and spins once before hitting his face on the cement. You shove the kid away as somebody grabs your arms and yanks them behind your back harshly. When somebody goes for your legs you kick them in the nuts, and then you kick the girl coming at you hard enough for her to fly back about a foot before crashing into a tree. You jump up a bit, putting all your weight onto the dude holding you as your foot connects solidly with another chick’s face.

        A hand grips your hair harshly and you let out a pained growl, wrenching your head out of their grip. You probably lose a few strands of hair in the process. You slam your head back as  _the_  jock of the school flies into the fight, balled fist connecting with the side of a senior’s head. The man flies a few feet before hitting the ground roughly, and you wrench forwards a bit, getting more length as the dude holding you is dazed from the headbutt. You may or may not have broken the asshole’s nose. You stomp your foot down onto the guy’s foot, and he lets out a howl of pain as you then kick backwards and hit him in the junk. You grab the dude’s head and then you slam his face onto your knee, another crack sounding off as you break his nose.

        Dean fucking  _Winchester_  holds the guy still as you punch him repeatedly, and then the other junior shoves the dude roughly. The guy that had been holding you hits the ground with a heavy  _thud_ , and you barely remember to make sure everybody is still breathing. You then turn to the kid you got a black eye and quite a few bruises for. “Are you alright?” You ask.

        “You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks, green eyes narrowed dangerously as he looks over the little kid. You see a few similarities between the two, and it hits you a few seconds later that this kid is probably Dean’s brother.

        “I’m good. He/She/They got here before Travis was able to hit me.” Sam Winchester mumbles, motioning to you. Dean turns to you, looking you up and down. You’re tempted to raise a brow, but genuine worry and respect in the other junior’s eyes makes you pause.

        “Are  _you_  okay? I saw them get you a few times. And I’m pretty sure that’s blood dripping down your face. Also, why the hell don’t you have a jacket on?” Dean asks, causing you to wince a bit. “Alright, touchy subject. But you never answered me. Are you okay?” You hadn’t even noticed that you’d been bleeding. Years of hunting have upped your pain tolerance a fuck ton. That doesn't mean you won’t be sore tomorrow.

        “Yeah. I’m good, don’t worry about me.” You mutter, using your button up to wipe off the blood. You stare at the piece of clothing for a few minutes in disgust before tossing it into the snowy field beyond the fence next to you. You pull off the beanie you constantly have in your backpack and you pull it on quickly. A pair of aviator glasses follow quickly to hide the blackeye already forming. Dean pulls a handkerchief out of his back pocket and he fills it with snow before handing it to you. “Thanks.” You mumble, holding the coldness against your eye in hopes that it’ll make the blackeye a bit less noticeable.

        “Here. The heaters aren’t working in the school right now. It’s bullshit, but I’ll be good with my like five layers.” Dean says, shrugging off his leather jacket. You hesitate before grabbing it, pale/dark eyes flickering up to Dean’s green pair.

        “Are you sure?” You ask because you know how important this jacket is to Dean Winchester. He sent a kid to the hospital for stealing it, before.

        “Yeah, you need it more than me and you seem trustworthy enough for me to think you’ll bring it back tomorrow. C’mon, Sammy. Let’s get you to class. See you later, (Y/N).” Dean smiles at you, a genuine smile, before he tosses an arm over his brother’s shoulders and steers him towards the entrance. This school has grades one to twelve, so it’s really likely that you’ll be seeing both Sam and Dean often. As you pull on the jacket that smells like oil and cheap cologne, you can’t help but wonder how  _Dean fucking Winchester_  knows your name.


	131. Team Free Will and Angels 2

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader is a mutant with wings, and they come out from fear when you and Team Free Will are trapped by three of the Archangels**

 

        You hadn’t even  _thought_  of giving your wings the order to come out of hiding. Because that’s a stupid fucking idea and you’re currently in a situation that ends in either death or torture. You, Sam, Dean, and Cas are basically surrounded by Michael, Gabriel, and Lucifer, and if your wings come out that will only give the archangels more places to inflict damage during a torture session. But then you feel it. You feel that shiver that you get before your wings burst into existence. You let out a shout of warning to Sam and Dean that are standing by your sides, but you end up backing up about a foot anyways, which is a foot closer to Michael. Your wings fly up and expand completely, but they recoil to your back and down when they brush against something.

        You can  _feel_  the stares snap to your wings, and you recoil a bit backwards, fearing how Team Free Will will react. Most people call you a freak and abandon you. Sam sees the fear suddenly filling your eyes along with your tears, and he recognizes the signs of you preparing for rejection. He then grabs your arm and pulls you back by him and his brother, glaring intensely at the archangels. You draw out a blade even though you know it won’t actually injure the archangels, and you spin around, almost hitting Castiel with your wings as you do so. A copy of young John Winchester is a few feet closer, his pale eyes sparked with curiosity as they don’t stray from your wings. Cas and you see that the archangels are distracted just enough at the same time.

        He looks at you with pain in his eyes, and you nod as faintly as possible. Castiel grabs Sam and Dean by the arms, and takes off, silently promising to come back for you. The Winchesters aren’t even able to react before they’re suddenly no longer in the room. Gabriel snaps and the four of you appear in an abandoned warehouse much different than the one you’d just been in. You spin around, wings trembling a bit and lowered in a pose that you can’t get out of no matter how hard you try. “How interesting.” A low voice murmurs, and you wince away from it, ending up closer to Gabriel.

        “What a peculiar creature you are.” Another deep but slower voice says, and you wince again. Gabriel seems like the least sadistic one out of the three archangels. Not that you think he isn’t sadistic. The dude’s chosen job is basically torturing people. At least he makes it interesting, though. As Lucifer strolls towards you casually, you become frozen with fear and you’re almost unable to breath.

        “Shhh…” Gabriel whispers behind you, and you let out another noise of complete and utter  _fear_. Lucifer stops a few inches away from you, and when he snaps your wings move basically unwillingly. They raise a bit and spread completely, and the entirety of your eighteen foot wingspan is visible. You recoil horribly when a hand raises to touch your wings, and you end up against Gabriel. You wince as his hands grip your shoulders.

        “We won’t hurt you. We won’t mark a masterpiece of our father so elegant.” Lucifer murmurs, hand moving again. It settles on the underside of your right wings, brushing against dark feathers. You turn your head to the side, knowing the amount of  terror in your eyes is pathetic. Can you really be blamed, though? You sure as hell can’t trust what the archangels say a hundred percent. Besides, why wouldn’t they torture you?

        Accidentally or not, you’ve killed quite a few of their brothers. And you aren’t any of their vessels. You wince  _hard_  when Michael speaks up. “We’ll play with it later, brother. As of now we have things to plan. Gabriel, return the human to the Winchesters. We’ll find him/her/them on a later date.”

        “Alright. Let’s go, (Y/N).” Gabriel says in a cheery tone. With a rush of light and the flap of wings, you arrive in the middle of the bunker. Dean catches you right before you pass out, and he swears wildly as he calls for help from either Sam or Castiel.


	132. Destiel 4, 5/?

**This’ll basically be a Cinderella!Destiel thing if ya’ll want me to continue it**

 

        Castiel is going to  _kill_  Gabriel. The fucker obviously had some idea that Castiel was going to be the  _King_  of the angels mate. That or there was just a very high chance that all of his brothers could see. Castiel doesn’t hesitate in grabbing Dean’s offered hand, and the taller and more muscular angel smirks before leading Castiel out to the dance floor. Castiel’s navy wings are stubbornly refusing to move from a submissive position. Which, of course, is causing Castiel’s face to be a bright red. It doesn’t help how Dean’s chocolate wings are perked and spread a bit in a dominant position.

        Dean leads in the dancing, staring at Castiel even as the smaller angel ducks his head to try to hide his blush. Dean’s eyes soften a bit, knowing that it’s very likely that the angel isn’t used to public displays of affection. Finding your mate is a rare occurance, so both him and Castiel aren’t exactly able to hide their reactions. Personally, Dean doesn’t care that others see his reaction to Castiel. It means that they no he’s no longer available for anything. Including dancing, thank god. Dean feels eyes watching him, and he glances over the staring angels to see Lucifer watching his brother protectively.

        Dean gets the message before it’s even sent, so he nods before turning back to Castiel as he spins him. Dean catches Castiel close to him before allowing the angel to continue swaying, still surrounded by Dean. “Odd choice of music. At least to slow dance to.” Castiel murmurs just loud enough for Dean to hear him. Dean nods a bit when he actually tunes into the music blaring over the speakers.

        “It’s a good song, though.” Dean mumbles back, still swaying with Castiel’s back pressed against his chest. Dean can feel the smaller angel relaxing in his hold, and he smiles a bit into Castiel’s neck. It’s an odd angle that he’s forcing his neck into, but in Dean’s opinion it’s totally worth it. Especially because of the way Cas keeps shivering every now and then from Dean’s breath on his neck.

        “It is.” Castiel says, humming along to ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ by Def Leppard. Dean nods again, and he can hear Castiel’s breathing slowing down a bit at how relaxed the angel is getting.

        “Don’t fall asleep on me.” Dean jokes, smiling into Castiel neck again as Have A Drink On Me by AC/DC blares over the speakers. He can hear Lucifer slap a hand over Gabriel’s mouth to block the hoots Gabriel is trying to shout out.

        “Mmhmm.” Is all Castiel responds with, still swaying but putting most of his weight on Dean. It isn’t difficult for the man to hold the angel up, though. He  _is_ above archangel status, but Castiel is just a very light being. Dean’s phone buzzes noticeably, so Dean shift a bit to hold Castiel more in one arm as he rummages through his pocket. Dean pulls out his phone, staring at the message flashing on the screen.

         **Take him home tonight  -Gabriel**

         **What?** Dean replies quickly, glancing at the nearly sleeping Castiel who’s becoming putty in his arms as he rubs a bit under one of the angel’s shoulder blades. His phones buzzes again so he looks back to the device.

         **Not that way. Ew. I mean let him sleep at your house tonight. Don’t really wanna see R’s reaction to you being baby bro’s mate. Besides, he’s basically asleep on you anyways  -Gabriel**   Dean would argue, but he knows it’s true that Cas is falling asleep. Dean isn’t against the idea, but he’s still a bit angry about why it seems like Castiel would be in danger if he goes home.

         **Alright** Dean sends back, picking Castiel up bridal style. The angel’s electric eyes crack open a bit, a confused sound escaping the angel. “Don’t worry. You’re staying the night at my house. Go back to sleep.” Dean whispers. Cas nods before grabbing onto the front of Dean’s collared shirt. Dean takes off, laying Castiel on his bed before stepping away. He snaps both of them down to their boxers before he crawls into bed, trying to keep a distance from Castiel so it doesn’t end up awkward when the two wake up.


	133. Gabriel 6, 3/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Gabriel trying to woo the reader, but Sam and Dean continuously ruin his attempts**

 

    Gabriel had been able to ask you out to brunch last night, and you’d been able to say yes before your brothers kicked open the door to stop you. Sadly, the fanciest thing you could find was a clean, not wrinkled chocolate colored button up, a black beanie, and not ripped dark grey jeans. And, of course, the only pair of shoes you have is your combat boots considering you almost never go undercover. At the moment, you’re sitting at a table near a window somewhere in France. Your feet are swinging aimlessly, because the dark wood chair with plush cream colored cushions are very tall. The coffee sitting on the table in a black cup tastes vaguely of cinnamon and vanilla, and the steam curling out of the cup looks like a dancer made of twirling smoke.

    You know that it’s Gabriel who arrives behind you when he tugs a bit on your hat, letting out a small chuckle. You roll your eyes and fix your beanie half-heartedly, smiling a bit. “Hey, Gabe.” You greet, tugging out your earbuds and shoving them into your pocket. “You’re in a suit.”

    “Morning. Sorry I’m a bit late. I went to go pick you up but you weren’t there. How’d you even get here?” Gabriel asks, giving you a small smile back as he sits down. “And how did you order a  coffee?”

    “Castiel dropped me off. And the person at the counter, thankfully, speaks enough english to know ‘coffee’ and ‘surprise me’. I think that’s it, though.” You say, motioning to the guy standing behind the round opening counter. Gabriel nods thoughtfully before grabbing your coffee and taking it a sip.

    “Ooh, that’s sweet. I like it. I’m guessing you haven’t ordered yet?” Gabriel asks, giving you a cheeky smile when you stare at him with an unamused expression that you can only hold for a few seconds. Gabriel waves over one of the waitresses.

    “Prêt à commander?” The waitress asks Gabriel, already aware that you can’t speak French. She’d been the one next to the one you ordered your coffee with. Gabriel glances at you for a few seconds, and you get what he’s asking.

    “Uhh, strawberry pancakes with bacon and hashbrowns, please.” You say, glancing between Gabriel and the waitress. The waitress is looking at Gabriel expectantly, and he quickly translates.

    “Crêpes aux fraises avec du bacon et des frites maison pour lui/elle/eux. Je vais devoir les crêpes au chocolat. Merci.” Gabriel says, and you stare at him for a few moments as you try to ignore the rush of something you aren’t going to name rush through you quickly. People speaking other languages has always been a bit of a huge turn on for you. How many languages does Gabriel even speak? Oh god, you hope Gabriel can’t hear you thinking. The waitress smiles at the two of you.

    “Votre nourriture sera servie rapidement.” The waitress says cheerily before walking away.

    “You’re blushing.” Gabriel says smugly.

    “Shut up.” You think your response amuses Gabriel through almost the entire brunch date.

 

***

 

 _Prêt à commander?_  - Ready to order?

 _Crêpes aux fraises avec du bacon et des frites maison pour lui/elle/eux. Je vais devoir les crêpes au chocolat. Merci._ \- Strawberry pancakes with bacon and home fries for him/her/them. I'll have the chocolate pancakes. Thank you

 _Votre nourriture sera servie rapidement._ \- Your food will be served quickly.


	134. Team Free Will and Angels 2, 2/?

_Btw I've got a Supernatural Hunger Games AU posted_

 

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader is a mutant with wings, and they come out from fear when you and Team Free Will are trapped by three of the Archangels, continued**

 

    You don’t know exactly what the archangels did, but it’s been two weeks and you still can’t hide your wings. Right now you’re sitting on the couch watching a movie as you wait for Sam, Dean, and Cas to get home. You grab a handful of popcorn then freeze, feeling a breeze ruffle the dark feathers on the inside of your wings. You jump up, spinning around with an angel blade in your hand. You hit something solid, and arms start to wrap around you. You twist, and the blade sinks into a sturdy chest, but it doesn’t affect the man. You exit your paranoid state of mind and enter a terrified one.

    “That wasn’t very nice.” Lucifer states, looking down at the blade piercing his vessel’s heart. You start backing up, but another archangel wraps an arm over your shoulder, his hand holding onto one of your shoulders.

    “Hello again, (Y/N).” Michael’s voice says, his mouth too close to your ear for your liking. You let out a sound of fear and try to move, but the archangel just tightens his grip. “Shh.” He mumbles, causing you to wince away a bit.

    “Chill with the creepiness. You’re scaring him/her/them.” Gabriel says, popping up behind you and his brother. He shoves Michael’s arm off of your shoulders, grabbing you and pulling you closer to him. Michael glares at Gabriel, but the smaller archangel just rolls his eyes and leads you away from Michael and Lucifer. Your wings draw in close to your body, and Gabriel follows the movements with a small frown. “I’m taking him/her/them out. See ya later, big bros.” Gabriel waves before snapping and suddenly you aren’t in the bunker.

    “What?” You ask, looking behind you to see your wings are hidden once again. You look at Gabriel with narrowed dark/pale eyes. Gabriel shrugs.

    “I know my brothers can be a bit… Overbearing. And there’s a fair here so I figured why not. May as well show you that I’m only occasionally an asshole.” Gabriel says, golden eyes focused forwards.

    “Didn’t you kill Dean, like, a hundred and something times?” You ask, raising a brow as you glance over at the archangel. He waves his hand and you and him are let into the fair, the smaller man still leading.

    “Yes but I brought him back.” Gabriel points out, and you find yourself shrugging as you follow the archangel.

    “True, but that was still a bit rude.” You comment a bit sarcastically. Gabriel snorts, and a silver band appears around your wrist.

    “Wha’da’ya wanna go on first?” Gabriel asks, glancing back at you. “The bands let us skip lines.” The archangel explains.

    “Ah. I don’t know… Uh… That one.” You point to the swinging, spinning, upside down going ride. Gabriel looks at you with a raised brow, and you duck your head a bit as you start heading towards the ride.

    “May or may not be a thrill seeker.” You comment as you pass the smaller man and skip the line.

    “Sweet.” Gabriel says, following you and flashing his band to the worker, and you do the same a few seconds later.

    “Go ahead.” The worker says, opening the gate and letting you and the archangel in before anyone else.

    “Let’s do this.” Gabriel says with a smirk, strapping himself in. You roll your eyes and buckle up. This archangel is gonna kill you.


	135. Team Free Will and Angels 2, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader is a mutant with wings, and they come out from fear when you and Team Free Will are trapped by three of the Archangels, continued**

 

    You don’t know exactly what the archangels did, but it’s been two weeks and you still can’t hide your wings. Right now you’re sitting on the couch watching a movie as you wait for Sam, Dean, and Cas to get home. You grab a handful of popcorn then freeze, feeling a breeze ruffle the dark feathers on the inside of your wings. You jump up, spinning around with an angel blade in your hand. You hit something solid, and arms start to wrap around you. You twist, and the blade sinks into a sturdy chest, but it doesn’t affect the man. You exit your paranoid state of mind and enter a terrified one.

    “That wasn’t very nice.” Lucifer states, looking down at the blade piercing his vessel’s heart. You start backing up, but another archangel wraps an arm over your shoulder, his hand holding onto one of your shoulders.

    “Hello again, (Y/N).” Michael’s voice says, his mouth too close to your ear for your liking. You let out a sound of fear and try to move, but the archangel just tightens his grip. “Shh.” He mumbles, causing you to wince away a bit.

    “Chill with the creepiness. You’re scaring him/her/them.” Gabriel says, popping up behind you and his brother. He shoves Michael’s arm off of your shoulders, grabbing you and pulling you closer to him. Michael glares at Gabriel, but the smaller archangel just rolls his eyes and leads you away from Michael and Lucifer. Your wings draw in close to your body, and Gabriel follows the movements with a small frown. “I’m taking him/her/them out. See ya later, big bros.” Gabriel waves before snapping and suddenly you aren’t in the bunker.

    “What?” You ask, looking behind you to see your wings are hidden once again. You look at Gabriel with narrowed dark/pale eyes. Gabriel shrugs.

    “I know my brothers can be a bit… Overbearing. And there’s a fair here so I figured why not. May as well show you that I’m only occasionally an asshole.” Gabriel says, golden eyes focused forwards.

    “Didn’t you kill Dean, like, a hundred and something times?” You ask, raising a brow as you glance over at the archangel. He waves his hand and you and him are let into the fair, the smaller man still leading.

    “Yes but I brought him back.” Gabriel points out, and you find yourself shrugging as you follow the archangel.

    “True, but that was still a bit rude.” You comment a bit sarcastically. Gabriel snorts, and a silver band appears around your wrist.

    “Wha’da’ya wanna go on first?” Gabriel asks, glancing back at you. “The bands let us skip lines.” The archangel explains.

    “Ah. I don’t know… Uh… That one.” You point to the swinging, spinning, upside down going ride. Gabriel looks at you with a raised brow, and you duck your head a bit as you start heading towards the ride.

    “May or may not be a thrill seeker.” You comment as you pass the smaller man and skip the line.

    “Sweet.” Gabriel says, following you and flashing his band to the worker, and you do the same a few seconds later.

    “Go ahead.” The worker says, opening the gate and letting you and the archangel in before anyone else.

    “Let’s do this.” Gabriel says with a smirk, strapping himself in. You roll your eyes and buckle up. This archangel is gonna kill you.


	136. Hunger Games AU

        Dean had always been the one to take care of the family, especially after his dad had gone insane after his mom died. Was killed, really, but who would believe him? Well, everybody in District Twenty, the human district, does. But the Angels in the capital? Nobody believes a word the humans say, and Dean was only a few months old the last time an angel actually saw him. Every other time he’d been passed by during reaping. Which is happening again today.

        Sammy is being entered for the second and his name will be entered only four times because Dean refuses to let him get more strips in the bowl. Even just one more ups his brothers chances of getting into the games, and Dean can’t risk that. He can’t risk knowing what can happen if Sam’s name is pulled. Especially to his dad. It’s bad enough that John has a strong sense of bloodlust aimed at anything and everything not human, Dean can’t handle him feeling that way to the angel too. Not with what they do to disobedient lower classes. Humans are the  _lowest_  class, too, so his father wouldn’t be given the mercy of death.

        Dean checks all his traps again before leaving the fenced out forest, grabbing the meat and throwing it against parts of the fence briefly and cooking them. He keeps about half raw, and then he tosses the silencer he carries into his bag. He then climbs up his tree, grabs the branch from the one across the way, and gets over the fence easily. The angels think that humans are stupid enough not to think about swinging from tree to tree to get over the fence. Their thoughts on the humans are honestly offensive. Dean lands on his feet easily and heads over to Harvelle’s Roadhouse, the trading area taking the shape of a bar. The angels, once again, think the humans are stupid so they never think of looking past the bar when they visit for about five seconds.

        He nods at Jo and Ellen, who are managing the actual bar, before heading to the back, his firearm obvious as it’s tucked in the back of his pants. “Dean.” Bobby greets as Dean appears, his machinery shop buzzing faintly behind him.

        “Bobby.” Dean greets with a small smile, hiking his bag up a bit higher.

        “How are you, Boy?” Bobby asks as Dean approaches, his green eyes flickering over the things behind his better father figure.

        “Can’t exactly say I’m good, Bobby.” Dean says, scowling as his voice cracks a bit. Bobby’s eyes soften a bit as he watches his godson.

        “How many times is your name going in?” Bobby grunts, voice soft.

        “Twenty three times after I get the rations.”

        “How many times is-”

        “Four.” Dean says before Bobby has to finish asking. Bobby glares at his godson.

        “Are you putting your name in twice again?” Bobby asks, voice tight as he tries not to yell at the older Winchester son. Dean nods before handing Bobby some of his cooked meat. Two hunks as usual. The bag that Bobby gives Dean is much heavier than usual, and Dean raises a brow at Bobby. “I’ve got a bad feeling, Boy. Just take it.” Bobby says gruffle, crossing his arms to show he isn’t changing his mind.

        “Thank you, Bobby.” Dean says, trying his hardest not to get choked up. Because he feels it too. And when you come from a huge hunter family you learn not to ignore your instincts. Dean does his normal rounds, getting a bit more from everybody. They must have seen Bobby. Nobody ignores Bobby’s instincts. Dean heads to the place where you can get a cart of food for another name slip in the bowl.

        The older Winchester brother ignores how heavy his bag is, used to lifting and slamming down heavier things. Even in a world where monsters, demons, humans, and angels are separate, John taught his first two sons how to hunt. Adam, the baby of the family, is only seven. However, that’s the age John started teaching Sam and Dean, and the two full brothers are sure that John is too dead set on revenge to teach Adam the ways of hunting. Dean drops off his wagon vegetable and fruit seeds in the back for Adam. At only seven years old, he takes after his mom a lot and is good with gardening. Dean drops off the cloths and string for his stepmom, and then he drops off the rest of the things in the kitchen.

        When Dean goes upstairs Sam is sitting on his bed, arms crossed as he stares at the floor. Dean pauses in the doorway before going into his and Sam’s room, quietly closing the door. “You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks, his voice quiet so he doesn’t startle his brother. Sam looks up, teary eyed and shaking.

        “I’m scared.” Sam whispers, kaleidoscope eyes watery as he stares at his older brother. Dean sighs in sympathy before approaching his brother, helping him adjust his shirt. He sees the back of the black shirt is untucked, and he tucks it in quickly.

        “It’ll be okay, Sam. You need to make sure this is constantly tucked in, alright? You don’t wanna look stupid in front of  _Jess_ , do you?” Dean teases Sam about his crush on the blonde with curly blonde hair. Sam glares at him, cheeks becoming pink before he looks away. Dean smiles, fixing Sam’s tie before turning serious. “You won’t be picked, Sam. Your name is only in there four times.”

        “But what if I am?”

        “You won’t be.”

        “But what if I am?”

        “You  _won’t b-_ ”

        “ _Dean_.” Sam snaps, looking just as serious as his older brother. Dean can hear Kate, his stepmom, pause outside the room. “What if I  _am_?” Dean is silent for a few moments, staring at his brother with narrowed green eyes.

        “You aren’t going to the games, Sam. I won’t let them take you, and I won’t let you go.” There’s a few tense moments of silence before Kate knocks softly on the door.

        “Can I come in?” She asks, and after a few moments Dean looks away from Sam and to the door.

        “Yeah. Go ahead.” Dean says, standing up and crossing his arms. Kate walks in a bit hesitantly. She brushes a few blonde strands out of her dark eyes, and her face softens as she looks at her stepchildren.

        “I want you to wear this, please.” The blonde woman says, handing Dean the leather jacket Kate has been making for months. Dean stares at the jacket a few moments before nodding and slowly taking the jacket.

        “Thank you, Kate.” Dean says genuinely. Kate smiles softly and nods, turning to leave. She pauses in the doorway. “Get ready, we’re leaving in a few minutes, and I don’t think your dad would… Appreciate it,” Kate winces, “if we’re late. Please hurry.” Kate leaves the room after that, letting Dean change into a white collared shirt, his black leather jacket that Kate made, and a pair of fresh jeans. He slips into his boots quickly before leaving, Sam trailing behind him a bit. The two hesitate at the door before taking a deep breath and leaving.


	137. Hunger Games AU, 2/?

                Sam and Dean are taken away from Adam, John, and Kate as they’re old enough to be in the games. Sam is then taken away from Dean by an angel peacekeeper and brought closer to the front because he’s younger. Dean stands at the back of the crowd. He’s twenty and Sam is only twelve, so there’s a large distance between him and his little brother. Dean crosses his arms as Castiel walks onto the stage, heading towards the bowls in the front. The angel obviously dislikes the games, but he’s always the one to start them. It’s a little bit twisted in Dean’s opinion, but it doesn’t surprise him.

                “Hello. We’ll be starting, as everybody is here.” Castiel says monotonously. As Castiel reluctantly drones on about why the games happen and how angels are above any other species and race, Dean tunes out. “And now for pulling the names.” Dean tunes back in right away. “We’ll start with the males, as usual.” Castiel strolls over to the bowl, digging deep into the glass sphere. He pulls out a piece of paper, and Dean’s stomach drops before the angel even reads the name on it. Something bad is about to happen. Something really bad.

                “What is it?” The man next to Dean asks, seeing him suddenly pale. Dean is about to tell him he doesn’t know, but Castiel reads the paper first.

                “Sam Winchester.” Castiel reads, and Dean stiffins. Immediately all eyes are on either Sam or Dean. The younger Winchester brother hesitantly walks forwards. What snaps Dean out of his shocked daze is Sam retucking the back of his shirt. The older Winchester brother surges forwards, shoving a human peacekeeper so hard the man flies backwards quite a few feet before hitting the ground. Dean rushes for his little brother, but his arms are grabbed by two angel peacekeepers. Dean isn’t sure where he finds the strength, but he flips one of the peacekeepers over his shoulder.

                “I volunteer!” Dean shouts, the words silencing any and all conversations happening in the clearing. Sam freezes where he is, unable to even turn as his brother’s words echo in his mind. He should’ve known Dean would volunteer if-  _when_  he was called.  _You aren’t going to the games, Sam. I won’t let them take you, and I won’t let you go._

                "This is certainly… Surprising.” Castiel says and Dean rips his arm out of the loose hold the other peacekeeper, heading towards his brother. He grabs Sam’s shoulder and turns him around.

                “You need to help Kate and Adam. You know what’s going to happen to dad. You can’t let him hurt any of you, do you understand me?” Sam doesn’t react to Dean’s words. “ _Sam._  Do you  _understand me_?” Dean snaps, knowing it’ll get a reaction from Sam.

                “Yessir.” Sam mumbles. Dean squeezes his brother’s shoulder before he clenches his jaw and heads up onto the stage.

                “There’s probably a, uh, series of steps I have to go through after that…” Castiel sounds a bit confused.

                “Does it matter?” Dean asks, voice sharp.

                “No. It probably doesn’t. What’s your name?” Castiel asks.

                “Dean Winchester.”

                “His brother?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Females, then.” The angel walks over to the other clear bowl and pulls out the first slip he touches. “Charlie Bradbury.” Oh God. Anybody but her. Not Charlie, she’s basically Dean’s  _sister_. Dean clenches his jaw until his teeth almost crack. Charlie stares at him, but Dean knows that if he makes eye contact with the ginger that he’ll break. “Happy Hunger Games, you two. And may the odds be ever in your favor.” Reassuring words are spoken solemnly, so no comfort can be found in them.

                Dean is led into a back room, and the first person to enter the room is Sam. His little brother flies into Dean’s arm, and Dean hopes there isn’t any cameras aimed at his face because he can’t help a few tears from streaming down his face. Dean buries his face in his brother’s shoulder. “How could you  _do_  that?” Sam eventually cries, grabbing onto the front of Dean’s shirt and burying his face into his older brother’s chest.

                “I couldn’t let you go, Sammy. Not you.” Dean whispers back, wrapping his arms around his brother. “You have to take care of the family now, Sammy. You know how John got when Mom died. If he disappears you’re gonna have to help Kate. She knows all the spots, and if you can’t get there then you’ll just have to survive on the garden. Bobby will probably help you, and everybody at Harvelle’s Roadhouse loves you. If it gets really bad you either go to Bobby or Ellen, understand? They’ll help you.” Dean manages not to slip up and tell anybody listening about him illegally hunting.

                “I-I under-understand Dean-ean.” Sam cries, and Dean rubs circles into his back and holds his brother until a peacekeeper comes in and starts to drag his brother back. “Dean! Dean you have to come back! You have to! Bring it back to me! Come back for me!” Sam shouts, voice breaking halfway through. A peacekeeper stops Dean from running after Sam, so the older Winchester brother just reaches for his little brother.

                “I’ll come back, Sam. I promise! I’ll be home soon!” The door closes heavily behind the peacekeepers, and Dean pulls a hand through his hair angrily, tugging at the strands as his eyes water up a bit. He bites the inside of his cheek and waits for his next visitor. John walks in, and Dean stiffens up, his eyes flashing angrily.

                “Dean.” He greets.

                “John.” Dean greets back, enjoying the small flash of emotion that goes through John’s eyes.

                “Bring this as your second thing from home. I understand that there’s only two things you can bring, and it isn’t a weapon, but it’ll help you.” John says, handing Dean his journal. Dean hesitates before taking it, putting it on the table next to the good luck amulet that Sam had wasted almost half the garden on for Dean a few years ago.

                “You can’t leave them.” Dean says instead of thanking his father, his green gaze becoming icy as he stares at John. “You can’t.”

                “I won’t.”

                “No, you don’t understand. You can  _not_  leave them. I don’t care how much this fucks you up, you are staying exactly where you are now, and if I find out that you hit anyone I swear to god the first thing I’ll do when I get back is strangle you until you aren’t breathing anymore. Do I make myself clear,  _sir_?” Dean asks bitterly, glaring at his father who’s looking like he wants to punch his first born.

                “I  _get_ it,  _Dean_.” John growls through clenched teeth. Dean glares at his Dad’s back until John is out of the room, Bobby coming in soon after.

                “How are you, Boy?” Bobby asks, eyes soft compared to John’s.

                “Not good, Bobby. Not good.” Dean replies. Bobby nods in a sympathetic way, and Dean is grateful that he finds no pity in his eyes. Bobby seems to read his thoughts.

                “I don’t pity you, Dean. John raised you in a way that I disagree with, but he taught you how to survive something like this. You’re coming back home, I can feel it in my gut.” Bobby says, and Dean smiles a bit at the man he really considers his dad. “What’re you bringing with you?”

                “John’s journal and the Samulet.” Dean says, scowling a bit at the name that everyone gives his amulet. It makes sense, though. Bobby nods.

                "You’ll be good, Dean. Be safe.”

                “Love you too, Bobby.” Only when Dean is under his covers on a fast moving train does he let himself cry.


	138. Hunger Games AU, 3/?

    Dean wakes up to Charlie pounding on his door about getting his lazy ass out of bed using a taser.”I’m up! I’m up!” Dean grumbles into the pillow. He’d barely gotten any sleep last night. He’s too used to the ground or his lumpy mattress. The bed is too soft for him to adjust to in one night. In fact, Dean had woken up a few times last night and immediately thought he was falling because of how much the mattress sank to accommodate to his weight. Dean throws a pillow at the door when it opens, and Charlie throws it right back, hitting the larger man in the face with it as he slowly sits up.

    “We have an angel as our mentor.” Charlie eventually says and Dean nods, standing and slowly cracking basically all of his bones. Charlie rolls her eyes at Dean.

    “Because we never had a victor in District Twenty.” Dean rumbles back, yawning as he stretches. Charlie nods a bit.

    “Okay, but our angel  _hates_  me.” Charlie continues.

    “What’s his name?”

    “Uriel.”

    “Hates humans. Thinks we’re stupid as hell. Figures we can’t climb a tree, let alone win the Games.” Dean says, rubbing the sleep from his face roughly.

    “But we will this time. You will.” Charlie says.

    “I won’t kill you.” Dean says, voice tight and eyes sharp as he looks at the woman he considers his sister.

    “Then I’ll do it myself or I’ll kamikaze a base or something. Depends how many people will be left. You gotta get home, Dean. Sammy needs you more than anybody. Besides, you gotta return the stuff you’re borrowing.” Charlie says. Dean nods, thankful that angels figure humans so stupid they don’t stop to check books that can contain something too useful. Like the journal. Even if Dean hates John, he’s gotta admit that the man can keep a good record of everything. “You won’t have to worry about that.” Dean sighs heavily before nodding.

    “What’re we supposed to wear?” Dean asks, motioning to the oncoming city. Charlie shrugs, motioning to the outfit she left in yesterday. It’s clean now, though.

    “Just what you wore yesterday, I guess. The clothes are folded up over there, and the journal is on top of them. Doesn’t even look like they opened it.” Charlie says.

    “I’m starting to get a bit offended.” Dean comments before throwing on his clothes, not caring that Charlie is in the room. They’re both gay as hell and basically siblings, so what does it matter if she leaves or not? A buzz sounds and Charlie rolls her eyes. “What is that supposed to do?”

    “Feeding time, I guess. Or just to get us to come out into the main cart/carriage/thing. Pick one.” Charlie says before getting up and heading out of Dean’s room. Dean follows closely behind, but he stops in the hallway at the sight of so much food. It’s nearly impossible for Dean to calculate how many things he’d have to sell, collect, and hunt to get just a shitty version of what’s on the table in front of him. Rolls and ham and everything in between related to breakfast is sitting on the table, and Dean’s stomach grumbles a bit as he looks at it. Sure, in District Twenty the Winchester household isn’t starving, but it sure as hell isn’t this well off. Nowhere close to this.

    “Eat. We can’t have you appearing in the Games looking like you have an eating disorder.” Uriel orders, and Dean scowls at the angel, tempted not to eat just to spite him and everybody else in the capital. Charlie sees the expression and elbows him, so Dean sighs and heads towards the table, still scowling. The man eats as much as he can, and then he gets up to wash his dishes. He jumps in surprise when a blonde woman pops up in front of him, takes his plates, and disappears.

    “What the hell was that?” Dean asks, and Uriel raises a brow.

    “You can speak? Fluently?” The angel sounds geniunely surprised, and it pisses Dean off. The man turns to the dark skinned angel.

    “Of course I can talk  _fluently_. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Everybody in District Twenty can talk well unless the system fucks them and kicks them out onto the street!” Dean says, and Charlie grabs his wrist with two hands before he can try to punch the angel or do something similar. Uriel tilts his head in a way that shows amused curiosity.

    “How many languages can you speak?”

    “Why the fuck does tha-”

    “Three. He speaks three languages fluently and then four more decently.” Charlie answers, attempting to pull Dean down. The man doesn’t budge and Charlie scowls, tugging again. Dean glares at Uriel, at Charlie, and then back at Uriel.

    “Interesting. I don’t think we’ve had a multilingual human in the Games before.” Uriel comments. “What about you?” Charlie makes an almost unnoticeable face when Uriel’s attention is turned to her.

    “Two fluently, one rustily, and three decently. If you add in fictional languages Dean and I can also speak three more.” Charlie says, avoiding the elbow Dean sends her way. Uriel looks over the two.

    “Brains, brawn, and survival instincts, hopefully. You two may actually survive the first five minutes of the Games. Then again, probably not.” Uriel then turns and leaves. “We won’t see each other unless necessary. I’ll send down everything sponsors give you two. Hopefully you’ll get at least one.” A steak knife sinks into the door a millisecond after Uriel leaves, and Dean starts turning red in anger.

    “Dude! Calm down! We already knew angels are assholes, what did you expect? It could’ve been worse. He could’ve been one of the mentors that are drunk all the time.” Charlie says, grabbing Dean’s bicep. Dean grits his teeth and pulls a hand through his hair angrily, glaring at the floor. Cheers start getting louder and louder as the angels nearby realize the true entertainment is coming. The humans. The ones who always die the worst ways in the Games, whether it’s at the Cornucopia or in whatever surrounding area the Games have set differently every year.

    Charlie grabs Dean’s hand in a panic, and the man’s brotherly instincts cut in right before the walls surrounding the two turn clear. Angels get a clear view of Dean and Charlie, Charlie waving at them with smiles and Dean standing next to her intimidatingly, arms crossed and jaw clenched but still holding Charlie’s hand. The crowd cheers loudly and Dean scowls a bit, turning to go to his room. Charlie lets him go after the first few minutes and nods to him. He nods back before leaving, stuffing the journal into the inside of his jacket. The slam of Dean’s door is loud enough to cover the cheering crowds for a few seconds, but the screams act back up soon. Charlie does her best not to puke at the disgust that rolls through her as she sees the joy on all the faces watching someone who will surely die for their entertainment.


	139. Hunger Games AU, 4/?

    Dean’s stylist is named Balthazar. His main stylist, he should say. There are three angels that shaved practically all the hair from Dean’s body that wasn’t on his head. His eyebrows had also been plucked, and the beard that keeps cold winds off of Dean’s had been shaved down to a rough stubble that shades his face pleasantly. The blonde angel that greets him in the back room, his stylist’s room, allows Dean to keep the towel Dean had tied around his waist to cover his goods. Oddly enough, Dean didn’t feel uncomfortable around the other angels, but he face heats up a bit at the thought of being bare around this one.

    “A human not god awful looking with a bright soul. This is actually something I haven’t seen before. Balthazar.” The angel offers his hand, and Dean shakes it firmly before letting go a few seconds after, crossing his arms.

    “Dean. And my what?” Dean asks, green eyes narrowing. He looks over Balthazar and the angel does the same to him.

    “Your soul. It’s very bright. It’s very nearly a grace, by the looks of it. I’m impressed, Dean. Seems like the humans have evolved quite a lot since I last visited District Twenty.” Balthazar comments, causing Dean to raise a brow.

    “Ya’ll don’t think that we can climb a  _tree_.” Dean says, slang slipping into his words as his temper spikes a bit.

    “To be fair, the last time most of us visited humans couldn’t, and we’ve never really seen humans last longer in the games for more than a few minutes. Not to forget the one time that a human  _did_  manage to survive the Cornucopia she died by falling from a tree.” Balthazar says, watching the way Dean’s jaw clenches with mild curiosity and interest.

    “She had a broken  _leg_.” Dean says, speaking to Balthazar like he’s a child. Balthazar’s brows furrow.

    “A what?” Dean lets out a long sigh, and Balthazar scowls.

    “We can’t heal ourselves. Why do you think we live so shortly unless becoming a victor and getting stuck with an angel mate? Or, god forbid, an  _archangel_  mate.” Dean says. “Then you get the powers, but at what cost? And you still have powers a little less than a normal angel’s. You’re like a frickin cupid on steroids.” Balthazar laughs a bit.

    “I’ve never thought about it that way, if I’m honest. But enough about that, turn for me. Let me see your angles. Your girlfriend has a soul quite similar to yours. However, hers is a very light shade of yellow while yours is somehow a dark yet light blue. I’m unsure as to how to explain the coloring to somebody with human color rods.” Balthazar says, making small talk as Dean slowly turns.

“Charlie isn’t my girlfriend. She’s my sister.”

“I didn’t trace any genes from the same family. Flex.”

    “What? And she isn’t blood related. More like she’s adopted family.”

    “I said flex. I need to see how much muscle you already have so I can talk to Uriel about what training you need.” Balthazar explains. “You humans are odd. Taking in family that isn’t yours? Animals, vampires, an-”

    “Werewolves are known for that. Yeah, I get it. Humans just barely survive on the shit we have down in District Twenty. We basically ran on instinct before Ellen became the mayor. She keeps everybody in check, and she manages it from behind a bar. I have a lot of respect for that woman.” Dean says, causing Balthazar to look up at him when he’s done checking over -  _out_  - Dean’s muscles. “And Uriel won’t help us. Dude hates humans. Said he doesn’t want to see us again, if you can read between the lines.”

    “Then you’ll need to convince him to help you two.” Balthazar says, causing Dean to snort as he adjusts his towel.

    “How do you suppose I go about that?” Balthazar shrugs.

    “Uriel is practically known for not liking to talk to lower beings. He doesn’t like being outsmarted by them even more. However, he doesn’t like his charges to fail too badly, if you’re hearing what I’m saying...” Balthazar trials off.

    “Hit him with his own ego. I kinda like that. I can do that. Charlie will catch on.” Dean says, talking more to himself than the angel taking his measurements. Balthazar looks at a human with a raised brow.

    “Are you sure that you two aren’t dating?” He questions, one side of his mouth tugging up at Dean’s annoyed look.

    “Pretty sure. We’re both gay as hell, so it’s not really a possibility.” Dean says, causing the angel to look confused.

    “Gay? What does being happy have to do with if the two of you are dating?” Balthazar asks, genuinely curious and a bit confused. Dean sighs heavily through his nose. Does he really need to explain sexual and romantic orientations to an  _angel_? Judging by Balthazar’s look, he does.

    “Not that gay. Gay as in the romantic and sexual orientation. Charlie is a lesbian, which means she’s only attracted to girls. I’m actually pansexual and romantic, which means I can be attracted to anybody no matter their gender. I just prefer men.” Dean says, shrugging a bit at the end.

    “What other orientations are there?” Balthazar asks, causing Dean to sigh a bit again before continuing. “And what do you mean no matter their gender? Don’t humans only have two?”

    “There’s some that are the ones most people are, and then there’s some with a smaller community of people with that orientation. There’s asexual and aromantic, which means you either don’t feel sexual or romantic feelings for most to all people. There’s bisexual, which is where somebody is attracted to boys and girls. The ones most people identify as are straight, which means you only like the opposite gender, and gay, which means you like people the same gender as you. There’s also demisexual and romantic, which means you only develop either or both of the feelings for people you have a connection to.

“Uhh, then there’s cis people, which identify with the gender their parts say they are. There’s also transgender people, they identify as the opposite gender as the one they were born as. There’s also bigender which is where somebody identifies equally as a boy and a girl. I think, but I’m not exactly sure? There’s also genderfluid people who identify as a guy some days and a girl others. There’s also, uh, I think they’re called agender people? They don’t identify as either of the genders.” Dean explains.

    “Are they shes or hes?” Balthazar asks, and Dean shakes his head.

    “They use they/their/them pronouns.” Dean says. Balthazar actually looks impressed as he looks at Dean.

    “There had always been a few large differences in some souls that others had the same difference to. We never really thought of what it meant. That may have to do with the genders thing. It would explain a lot. But enough with that. We need to plan your outfit style. Let’s go, start firing off options and I’ll tell you if they suck or not.” Balthazar says. They both sit down, because it’s obvious that this will take a while.


	140. Hunger Games AU, 5/?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Google Translate so I'm apologizing right now for any mistakes

    Dean stands up straighter when Balthazar hits him in the back, and then the angel comes around to his front again. Dean scowls down at the angel who only winks at him. “This is weird as hell. And they keep moving without me telling them to.” Dean says, motioning to the wings behind him. One is made of nightmare colored leather stretching over thick bones. The other is fucking  _huge_  and it hurts Dean’s eyes to look at.

    Charlie comes over, also looking angelic. And also demonic. It seems like it was difficult for the stylists to make Charlie look demonic. One of her pale green eyes isn’t visible, and inky black covering one  of her eyes entirely. There’s also a pair of wings on Charlie, but her leather wing is thinner. The bones are traceable, and the stretched leather over it is a snowy white color. Of course, Charlie’s wide smile when she sees Dean almost completely demolishes her demonic half. Her other wing is large, but nowhere near as Dean’s, and it’s like pale yellow and silver mixed without actually  _combining_.

    “Your wing is hurting my eyes, Charlie.” Dean mutters, rubbing said eyes. One is an inky black like Charlie’s one eye, and the other is his normal meadow green. Somehow Balthazar managed to make the eye on the angelic side to look soft. Dean isn’t exactly sure how, because he’s been promising death with his eyes to anybody who so much as looked his way. Balthazar leads the two humans to their chariot. Two huge horses stand in front of the half black, half white chariot. The horse in front of the black part is the color of untouched snow, and the horse in front of the white part is the color of nightmares.

    “You can’t talk, dude. Jesus shit that wing is bright. And huge. Why is your wing so big?” Charlie asks. Balthazar smirks before responding, because Dean has no clue.

    “Because Dean is a bottom.” Balthazar says, causing Dean to choke on nothing and cause Charlie to bust out laughing.

    “ _What?! Dean!_ Oh my god, really?” Charlie cackles, gasping for breath as she stares at Dean. Dean gives Balthazar a mortified look. The angel winks at him, letting his void colored wings, that are smaller than Charlie’s, flash into existence for a few seconds. He then quickly starts positioning the two humans on their chariot. “Wait, wait, wait. Really? Like, seriously? You can tell if an angel is a top or a bottom by looking at their wings?” Charlie questions, entering an entirely new round of laughter after Balthazar nods.

    “Yes, seriously.” Balthazar says, “Small wings are for tops and large wings are for bottoms. I think it’s so bottoms can attract mates.”

    “Oh god, I never needed to know that you’re a top, Charlie.” Dean says, crossing his arms and leaning away from Charlie dramatically. Charlie rolls her eyes, snapping back a comment that causes Charlie to join her laughing fit.

    “I’ve forgotten how sarcastic humans are.” Balthazar says, moving the humans a bit more and making Dean cross his arms. Charlie shifts slightly, sticking one hip out a bit more as she locks herself in place. Balthazar just nods, shifting the two’s wings around. He doesn’t touch the angel wings, just motioning with a flash of his own wings as to how the two should hold their wings.

    “Shit.” Charlie says when the chariot starts moving, hand shooting out to grab Dean’s bicep.

    “Just do whatever looks natural, but stay in the placements I put you in.” Balthazar calls after them, “And don’t hesitate to make Dean look protective. Good luck!”

    “Dick.” Dean mutters, also locking his knees. However, he’s more sturdy than Charlie so he doesn’t really move that much where Charlie nearly stumbles. “What are these ridiculous outfits supposed to represent again?” He asks, motioning to Charlie’s toga and his ‘bad boy’ outfit consisting of what he normally wears with a few extra things. He’s in a leather jacket with ripped dark grey jeans. He also has on a blood colored sleeveless shirt that hugs his frame ridiculously tightly. There may as well be no shirt with how much the damn thing shows. He’s in the leather jacket that Kate had given him, and the Samulet rests against his solid chest, glittering with light.

    “Not sure, but both your eyes are black now. You look scary, dude. But the crown doesn’t really help- oh.” Charlie says, bright green eyes widening before they glow a pale yellow. No, not yellow. They’re the same color of her angel wing. The flower crown she’d been wearing slowly shifts into a full out crown made of ivory vines and opal roses.

    “They may be dicks, but they sure as hell know how to manipulate fabrics and shit. Damn.” Dean says, watching the starting tunnel approach slowly. Suddenly, the chariots that had stopped at the entrance started trotting out into the open. The horses drawing the human’s chariot speed up a bit to match the others, and Dean would’ve grabbed Charlie by the shoulder if she hadn’t already grabbed his bicep again.

    “Shit, man.” Charlie says, watching the light approach quickly now.

    “Don’t forget the positioning of your wings.” Dean says, but he breaks the rule of having his wings down soon after. Only a few feet after exiting the tunnel, all attention is on the humans. One demon and one angel with wings from both. Dean’s wings shoot up all the way, shifting slightly behind Charlie. He stops them just in time from closing around both him and his sister, gritting his teeth as he glares. He sees Charlie on the screen above them first, her eyes as blinding as her award winning smile. He’s next, his huge wings spread completely and his eyes icey against his pissed expression. God damn did Balthazar do a good job.

    The two humans next to each other are such a contrast that it sends the angels in an uproar as if they’re seeing the birth of the next Christ or something. Because instead of seeing the cowering beings that usually come to the games, they get an obviously manipulative pair of powerful looking beings. There’s determination and murder in Dean’s eyes, and Charlie’s glowing orbs are filled with false joy and observation. Dean lets out a low whistle, hand flying up to catch a white rose thrown at him and Charlie. He hands it to his sister, winking in the direction of whoever threw the rose. He raises a brow at the reaction before going back to an emotionless face.

    “Il est évanoui. Dean, du bon travail. Je suis un peu impressionné (He passed out. Dean, good work. I'm a little impressed).” Charlie says, causing the angels to go even more insane because these somehow intelligent humans can communicate in a language that they can’t speak.

    “Tu devrais essayer. Il est assez amusant , et ça va être amusant de se moquer d'eux quand nous serons de retour à la maison (You should try. It is pretty fun, and it will be fun to make fun of them when we get back home).” Dean replies, and, once again, angels freak out as Dean replies in a rough voice that’s almost too deep for a man who looks like he does. He rolls his eyes at the reaction, and he barely shifts as the chariot turns another corner. Charlie doesn’t either, because she’s got a crushing grip on the taller and larger man’s arm once again. Dean doesn’t even think about the crescent shaped marks she’s probably leaving in his bicep.

    “When  _you_  get home.” Charlie says, effectively making pain, anger, and numbness flash across Dean’s face. He doesn’t speak again until they stop in front of the archangels in the middle of the huge district.


	141. Destiel 5, 3/?

    Dean asks Charlie to invite Castiel to the party at their house being thrown today. In a few hours. And Sam is teasing his older brother because he’s freaking out about what he should wear like a freshman on their first date. Eventually he helps his brother, but only when it looks like he’s about to pull his hair out in a panic of what he should wear. “Charlie!” Sam calls out, and the redhead appears in the door quickly.

    “What?” She asks, putting on mascara without a mirror. Sam is pretty sure he’d manage to stab himself in the eye if he tried even with the biggest, clearest mirror in the universe. He’s gotta give Charlie credit for her makeup skills.

    “Dean’s already messed up his hair, and soon he’s gonna need a wig. Help him out before I need to get a broom.” Sam says, causing Charlie to roll her eyes. She goes over to Dean and removes his hands from his hair, fixing it before grabbing his arm and dragging him into the closet.

    “That pile is the only dirty stuff.” Dean mutters, motioning to a pile on the floor with his only good clothes. Charlie rolls her eyes, tossing the dude a pair of black jeans that are a bit ripped and well worn. She then throws Dean’s black combat boots at him. Dean barely manages to duck before said boots hit him in the face. “That was rude.” He comments, causing Charlie to roll her eyes.

    “Whatever, go change into that.” She orders. Dean walks into his bathroom to change quickly, and when he goes back into the closet. A black sleeveless shirt hits him in the face, and green eyes glare at Charlie. “Don’t be a drama queen.” She says.

    “Am I wearing any color?” Dean asks.

    “Yeah, actually. Give me the shirt back and put this on.” She tosses Dean a greenish collared shirt, and Dean eyes it wearily before putting it back on. He then tosses Charlie the shirt back and glances in the mirror. Huh. Not bad.

    “Thanks, Charlie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says, and Charlie rolls her eyes, putting on lip gloss.

    “Crash and burn and go bald prematurely. Go get your keys and make Sam some food so we can go. We gotta be the first ones there. Cas will probably be there before us at this rate. If you hurry, he’ll get there at the same time we do.” Charlie says, causing Dean to scowl and then raise a brow.

    “Castiel likes being early?” Dean asks, and Charlie shrugs, rubbing her lips together as she shoves the lip gloss in her bag.

    “Not sure he  _likes_  being early so much as he’s just constantly early.” Charlie replies. “Probably drilled into him with the family he has. Huge and important business people and shit. Don’t ask about it though, it’s a touchy subject for him and he barely talks to even me about it.” Dean raises a brow again.

    “Then why’d you tell me about it?”

    “So you get why the watch he’s probably wearing is so damn expensive. Lets go, chop chop. Don’t want the attendees to be there before you.” Charlie says, and Dean finally gets in gear and heads downstairs, Sam trailing behind him.

    “What’da’ya wanna eat?” He asks his little brother, and Sam shrugs, rummaging through the cabinets quickly.

    “Here.”  
    “Ramen?”

    “Why not?”

    “Good point. Alright, it’ll be done soon. Go sit on the couch and find a movie or something. You know the drill.” Dean says, and Sam nods.

    “Don’t open the door to strangers, don’t stay up past midnight, and check that the gun’s safety is on before I put it under my pillow.” He repeats. “Where are you going tonight?” He asks, and Dean glances behind him as he starts the ramen.

    “Karaoke place. A band is performing there, I think.” Dean says, and Sam nods.

    “That’ll be cool. Don’t get hammered, though. Kate is getting more and more attentive to how much you’re drinking. You gotta chill out.” The legal now is seventeen years old, and a lot of teenagers, including Dean, have been abusing that law a bit.

    “I know Samy. I know. I’m trying, dude. Honestly.” Dean replies, becoming proud when his voice doesn’t crack at all.

    “I know. Just have Charlie check you.” Sam says. Dean nods, texting Charlie to do so because god knows where the hell she is right now.

    “Foods done. Eat it in a few minutes or it’s gonna be warm.” Dean says. Sam nods, and when Dean heads out to his Impala Charlie is already sitting in the passenger seat. The senior rolls his eyes before unlocking his door and getting into the driver’s seat.

    “Hurry up or Cas is gonna beat us there. You’re gonna want to see his bike.” Charlie says, and Dean glances at his sister as he pulls out and speeds down the road. It’s weird to think of Castiel actually driving, and Dean isn’t sure why that sounds weird to him. Why  _does_  it bother him?

    “Castiel has a bike? What kind?” Dean asks, and Charlie shrugs.

    “No clue. Big, black, and scary. It goes really fast too. You’d think that he’d go faster after getting into an accident, but no. He gets a bike that looks like something batman would drive and he goes even  _faster_. He might drive even faster than you, dude.” Charlie says, and Dean smiles a bit before facing forwards again. He arrives at the karaoke bar he rented out for the night, and Castiel arrives just seconds later. A powerful engine roars behind Dean as the Impala’s strong engine purring dies as he cuts the power.

    “Holy  _shit!_ ” Dean shouts, getting out of his car quickly. He barely remembers to lock his door before he heads over to Castiel. “Dude! Your bike is fucking  _amazing!_ ” Dean says, startling Cas a bit.

    “Oh, uh, thanks.” Cas says, sounding surprised but genuine.

    “Where did you get it?” Dean asks.

    “Oh, my dad gave it to me. I like your car. 67’ Impala? It’s a sweet car.” Cas says, and Dean smiles widely.

    “Yeah. Why are you here so early? The invite says to arrive at least half an hour later.” Dean says, and Cas shrugs casually.

    “My band is playing before anybody, and I have to set up my stuff.” Dean chokes on air at Castiel’s words.

    “What?  _Your  band?_ ” Dean asks, and Castiel smirks a bit at his shock. “The Fallen Ones is  _your_  band?” Dean asks. The Fallen Ones is one of the senior’s favorite bands, but he’s never actually looked up the names to the members.

    “Yeah. I’m the lead singer. See you soon.” With that, Castiel slips past Dean and into the bar, leaving the senior with wide eyes and no words. Somewhere nearby, Charlie is cracking up.


	142. Dean 10

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**This’ll be at the end because you’ll probs figure it out and I don’t wanna spoil this**

 

    The first time you saw him had been on a hunt. You had almost collided with both him and his taller brother while you tried to get to the officer and flash your badge first. The two had glared at you a bit before adding you onto the partner list, letting you hop on with slightly nervous expressions. But, when you didn’t call them out as fakes they knew that you were also a hunter. His green eyes had drawn you in, and his sass and smile had made you want to stay. Neither of you could have even guessed what would happening in the following years. Neither one of you could even think about how it would end.

    The first date the two of you went on was for a date. You hadn’t truly like Dean Winchester yet. You’d still been nervous around him and Sam. The feeling could probably be called well placed caution. Maybe even mistrust. It didn’t matter, though, because the two of you had to pull off the happy couple act to catch that damned cupid. It had worked, but you’d walked out of that hunt with something twisting in your guts and heating your heart slowly. Almost unnoticeably.

    Then the two of you went on a real date. It wasn’t for a mission, and it wasn’t to draw anything out. It was because the two of you felt the same heat and saw the same glow that surrounded the other. A glow that looked like gold and smelled of chocolate and drew the two of you in before you could stop it. It was just a regular coffee date. Nothing special about it, and nothing unusual happened. But it was a start. The start of something huge. Neither of you truly felt it, but it had been there. An air of importance and something thick surrounding the both of you while you sipped coffee and ate pie tasting like cinnamon and apples.

    It had been on the seventh date that you kissed for the first time. You can still remember how his lips tasted. Like cinnamon and the whiskey you two had been sipping the entire date. You can replay over and over in your mind how it felt to bite Dean’s bottom lip. The gasp of surprise that it had drawn from the man. You remember how his rough hands had felt on your midback and the back of your neck. It had started slow and passionate, but the roughness that followed led to a night that you couldn’t forget even if you wanted to. Not that the thought had ever crossed your mind.

    Maybe it was the fact that you two were and are hunters that rushed things along so quickly. Not that either of you regret it. Not at all, and never in a million years. You’d been going through the town you had your first date on, and decided to stop for food. At the same place of your first real date. And that’s when Dean pulled out the ring. A band made of iron on one side and silver on the other, broken in the middle by black diamonds. It was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

    You think that Dean may have felt a bit guilty that the two of you had to be married in Vegas, but you honestly never really minded. You two had rings and the love that had grown for  _years_ , and you never really pictured having one of those huge weddings. No dresses and tuxes/(just) tuxes were ever in your picture. No huge chapel with twisting columns had been in your dreams. You had doubted you’d ever actually find somebody when you became a hunter. It’s just more proof that you and Dean were meant for each other.

    It shouldn’t have surprised you that your life ended with Dean. You always knew it wouldn’t be old age or a disease that killed you. At least you went out with a meaning. While saving the most important thing to you. Of course, Dean’s horrified look wasn’t what you wanted to see last. You don’t regret anything, though. You couldn’t let Dean die. Not for you, not for Sam, not for Cas. You couldn’t let him die for anybody. So of course you jumped in front of your husband when the gun aimed at him was fired.

    The last colors you saw were the colors of country night skies and lush meadows. The last man you saw was the one you loved the most. The one you’ll love even when Death leads you away from a life of caring and passion. Dean Winchester’s eyes gaze into yours as your vision starts to fade, darkness creeping in on the edges of your vision. You can smell the coffee from the start of this adventure. You can taste cinnamon and apples and cheap whisky as you start to fall. Dean’s arms wrap around you and help you slowly collapse to the floor. The tears that hit your closing eyes remind you of the rain you kissed under. You can barely get out the words before the numbness comes to take you to a place to wait for Dean. A place that will look like a mix of a coffee shop and a large bunker and an old house all wrapped in one.

    “I love you. I’ll wait for you. Keep me waiting.” A scream entirely of pain and anger echoes after you as your heart stops beating.

  
**Imagine taking a bullet for your husband, Dean Winchester, and you die in his arms**


	143. Hunger Games AU, 6/?

    The archangels look at each of the tributes as they roll in, but two of them snap their attention to District Twenty’s tributes almost immediately. Black eyes glare straight ahead, and glowing grace eyes flicker down as soon as the archangels are looking at the owner. Gabriel nudges Lucifer, and the taller archangel nods, his attention also focused entirely on the human playing demon. The human actually seems to notice he’s being watched, even without looking up at the archangels staring at him. The huge wings protruding from his back move down a bit, but the man clenches his jaw before forcing the wings back into a neutral position. It’s actually quite an impressive feat, because even some angels are unable to manipulate their wings in a way like that. Lucifer leans towards the human a bit, and Gabriel does the same.

    Dean clenches his teeth, trying to ignore the heavy weight of somebody watching him. He should say people with power watching him. He’d been watched plenty back in District Twenty, but never by anybody important. And nobody back in District Twenty was truly more powerful than Dean Winchester. John had been the main man, but when the town found out about his abusive ways they abandoned him. Of course, that put Sam and Dean on the spot, because suddenly those cuts and bruises could be from something other than getting food. The man isn’t sure as to why his wings had gone down so quickly, but it was damned difficult to get them back up into a neutral position.

    “Dean? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas (What’s wrong)?” Charlie whispers, and two archangels lean forwards again because of course they’re listening to the conversation.

    “Rien. Tout va bien (Nothing. All is well).” Dean mumbles back, and Gabriel nudges Lucifer with a silent question.  _Can you understand them_? Lucifer nods back a confirmation before tuning back into the conversation. Michael stands up and starts up the speech that even the archangels are tired of hearing.

    “Bullshit . Que se passe-t-il (What’s going on)?” Charlie asks, and Lucifer translates just loud enough for the younger archangel to hear him.

    “Ils nous regardent. Moi. Deux d'entre eux au plus. Ne vous avisez pas vous regardez petite merde (They look at us. Me. Two of them at the most. Don’t you dare look you little shit).” Dean snaps, and Lucifer chuckles. Gabriel elbows the older archangel in the side until he translates what the human said. Even if he doesn’t survive, Dean Winchester will prove to be good entertainment in the Games.

    “Ça fait mal Dean. Hurt mon cœur (That hurt Dean. Hurt my heart).” Charlie replies, her smile almost blinding. These humans would make amazing angels, in Lucifer’s opinion. Their souls are very nearly graces. That hasn’t been seen in any of the games.

    “Tais-toi (Shut up).” Dean says, chuckling a bit until the weight of the archangel’s stares causes him to go blank faced again.

    “Vraiment? Ils ont pas cessé de chercher encore (Really? They haven’t stopped staring yet)?” Charlie questions, eyes glancing up over the angels. One seems to be looking at all the tributes with disinterest, but two of them are staring directly at Dean. Not the black haired one giving the speech, Michael, but the two with blonde hair. The pale pair of eyes doesn’t turn away from Dean, but the golden pair does. “He just winked at me.” Charlie says, shock causing her to switch back to English.

    “What?” Dean switches back to english too, his tone more rough and scratchy than it was when he was speaking French. Lucifer crosses his arms as he leans back a bit, eyes still focused entirely on the human male.

    “Gabriel? I think that’s his name. McSweets.” Charlie clarifies, and Gabriel snorts at the nickname, crossing his legs and kicking them up onto his mate’s lap. He pulls out a cherry flavored sucker, popping it into his mouth.

    “The nickname the humans gave you is fairly accurate.” Lucifer comments, and Gabriel shrugs with a small head tilt.

    “Yeah.” Gabriel says casually, twirling a pen around his fingers with a large amount of a useless skill. The two watch the chariots leave, and they  _do_  catch how Dean’s wings are trembling terribly. They also see them flash down to a submissive position before he forces them back into neutral position again. “So…” Gabriel pops the sucker out of his mouth.

    “You wanna follow them? I know that both of the others have followed around their fair share of non-angels. Hell, Michael almost always gets to the point of talking to somebody in each of the games.” Gabriel says, and Lucifer glances at him with a raised brow. Gabriel shrugs, saying, “He’s interesting. And hot. And he actually has a chance in the games, in my opinion. And if he wins we can get him.”

    “Alright.” Lucifer says slowly, not exactly sure what he’s getting himself into.

    “Sweet. Let’s go. I wanna meet the redhead too.” Gabriel grabs his mate’s hand before dragging him along, out of the view of the cameras.

    Dean is handed an overcoat as he gets off the chariot. He hears his name being called by Balthazar, and only a few seconds later there’s a loud snap and a bright flash. He glares at the angel who took a picture of him before heading over to Balthazar. “What?” He asks, tensing as he sees how nervous the angel is suddenly.

    “Some, uh, some people want to talk to you, Dean. And Charlie.” Balthazar says. A familiar feeling overwhelms Dean, and the man’s green eyes appear again from the murky ink that had filled his eyes for the last few hours.

    “Hey there, Dean-o!”

    “Oh shit.”


	144. Gabe/Dean/Castiel 1, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean needs to see hellhounds again, but the glasses have an unexpected added feature; they allow Dean to see angel wings, continued once again**

 

    Dean should’ve figured that the first date would be to a fair. At least the celestial beings had told him that they’d be taking him out beforehand. Dean towel dries his hair, a towel around his waist as steam chases him out of the bathroom. His teeth are clean, his breath smells like mint, and all the blood from the previous hunt has been washed off of his body. Dean jumps as he finds a pair of electric eyes and another the color of the sun watching him when he steps into his room. “What the fuck?” Dean almost shouts, one hand going down to make sure the towel around his waist is in place.

    “We’re here to pick you up.” Castiel states, and Dean’s green eyes narrow as he glances at the alarm clock beside his bed. It’s six AM on the dot. Of course they’re here exactly on time. When else would they appear.

    “Yeah. I noticed. Hopefully you’ve noticed that I’m not ready yet.” Dean says, motioning to his attire. Gabriel looks over him, and the tint that appears in his eyes causes Dean to flush a bit.

    “Oh, we’ve noticed. Go style your hair we’ll cover the rest.” Gabriel says, causing Dean to flush a deeper shade of red before he disappears into the bathroom again. He dries his hair quickly, and when he walks back out he still has a towel around his waist. “Throw this on quickly. I won’t wait very long before deciding you need help.” Gabriel says, tossing the Winchester a pair of dark grey jeans, a light blue button up, and a black blazer. Dean scowls before heading over to his dresser and grabbing a pair of underwear. “Tick tock Dean.”

    “Asshole.” Dean mumbles.

    “Present.” Gabriel replies, watching Dean as he disappears into the bathroom again. The hunter appears in the room a few minutes later. Castiel grabs the human’s shoulder before Gabriel can do so, and then a rush goes through Dean. When he’s aware of his surroundings again, he finds himself in a booth in a restaurant. Gabriel is sitting next to him, he’s next to the window, and Castiel is sitting across from him. Castiel is reading a menu, and Dean picks his up after a few moments.

    “I thought angels don’t have to eat?” Dean says, and Gabriel looks at him, turning away from his menu for a few seconds. He rolls his eyes and turns back to the menu, looking over the breakfast-dessert menu.

    “Needing to and wanting to are very different things, Dean-o.” Gabriel says, and Dean raises his brow before nodding a bit and turning to the menu again. He notices a little girl looking at him and the angels and smiles, waving at her. The little girl gives a toothy smile back and waves before following her mom again. Dean notices that almost none of the signs on the street are in english at the same time Gabriel gets his attention. By squeezing the inside of Dean’s thigh. The fucker.

    “What?” Dean asks after jumping, turning to the angel quickly. He sighs heavily at the contact container the archangel hands him. “Really?” He asks. Castiel nods as Gabriel replies to the unasked question.

    “It’s for the courting thing. You need to see them at almost all times.” Gabriel says, and Dean sighs before popping the contacts in.

    “Fine. Where the hell are we?” Dean asks instead, and Castiel looks around briefly as Gabriel orders for the three. The archangel only has to briefly read Dean’s mind to find what he wants to eat, and Castiel just tells him over their link.

    “Somewhere in France, by the looks of it.” Castiel says, and Dean nods a bit, not shaking off the arm the Gabriel slings over his shoulders. He won’t admit it, but the archangel is damned comfortable. Dean thinks that maybe he’ll manage to get through this date without his body reacting embarrassingly, but then Castiel starts dragging his foot slowly up and down the humans leg. Dean then realizes that the angels are probably going to do their best to get any reaction from him. Shit.


	145. Michael/Reader/Lucifer 1, 4/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine the reader, a rebellious angel who knew Michael and Lucifer in the past, is alive during the apocalypse, and when Michael and Lucifer hear that the reader still lives, they chase the reader down and try to court them, continued once again**

 

    When you wake up, your leg is healed but still sore. You find that your ankle has a cold band around it, and a strong chain of unknown metal is attached to it. Son of a bitch. You shift around, kicking off the blankets laid over you. You scowl as you get out of the bed, finding that your wings are hidden again, but you’re unable to get to the door. The chain is melted into a bar that disappears into the ground. You check around the room first, looking for a way to get out before anything.

    When it becomes apparent you won’t be able to escape, you scowl and stalk towards the bar holding you in the room. You pull at the chain, kick at the bar, but everything you do is pointless. The stupid thing doesn’t budge. You glance down at your ankle, and you spend almost half an hour trying to get the fucking band off. Just as you’re contemplating if you should try to cut off your foot, the door opens. Michael walks in first, and Lucifer wanders in after him. The blonde angel crosses his arms and leans against the wall, clearly not wanting to be in this room right now.

    You glare and stand up slowly, crossing your arms and placing a foot behind you. You’re willing to play run around the room because you aren’t fucking stupid and you know that an archangel is at least fifteen times more powerful than you are. Lucifer snorts, and you scowl at him because dammit your thoughts aren’t an open book to be read like you’re in a damned elementary school classroom. Lucifer snorts again. “Get out of my fucking thoughts.” You snap, and the archangel raises a brow.

    “I don’t exactly want to be rummaging around in your mind. You just think loudly.” Lucifer says, and you scowl at him. Your anger must be shoved across the bond or something, because Lucifer looks away instead of sticking his tongue out at you. Because who really grows up after millions of years.

    “Stop it. Both of you.” Michael orders. You scowl, very nearly sticking your tongue out at the archangel.

    “Make me.” You say like a child. Lucifer raises a brow again before shrugging, turning to Michael before speaking.

    “I told you.”

    “Shut up.” Michael snaps.

    “I don’t understand why you thought it would be a good idea to approach him/her/them so soon. She/He/They hate(s) us. That’s not going change for a while.” Lucifer continues, a finger resting on his lip.

    “I said shut  _up_.” Michael snaps, whirling on Lucifer. The archangel smirks, crossing his arms again.

    “All I’ve got is time, though. And I’m the one with patience.” Lucifer says, walking out afterwards. Michael scowls before following him, leaving you food and water before he slams the door.


	146. Crowley 5, 9/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued another time**

 

    You hadn’t noticed that the bond was there until it was so strong you could feel the archangels’ emotions. The first time you’d felt it had confused the hell out of you. The archangels had changed around the cage so that it looks like a modern home’s living room with an attached kitchen and bathroom. Which is weird even for the archangels. Because aren’t they supposed to be next to powerless in here? Lucifer had been cooking something for you and had cut his finger, and while you’d been watching your favorite show you’d felt annoyance build up in you. Michael noticed your confusion and asked what was wrong, but even you didn’t know.

    The first time you felt someone else’s emotions had been about two weeks ago. Now you’re fully aware of what’s going on, and you’ve figured out it’s probably a good idea to tell the archangels. “So…” You start, and Michael looks up from his book. Lucifer pauses in his cooking, putting down his knife and the vegetables.

    “Yes?” Michael prompts.

    “Have you guys, er.. Felt each other’s, uh… Emotions?” You question. Michael tenses a bit, and Lucifer pauses in his hand washing.

    “What?” Michael asks, slowly sitting up straighter.

    “Not- not necessarily each  _other’s_  emotions but, uh… Just emotions that aren’t yours?” You ask, sinking back into the couch as you suddenly wish you hadn’t brought this up. Michael turns to Lucifer.

    “Did you feel that?” Michael asks slowly. Lucifer looks at you, and he nods. You duck your head a bit and sink further into the couch.

    “Felt that too. I think you’ve formed a bond with us, (Y/N).”  Lucifer says almost casually, ignoring the way you choke on nothing.

    “What?!” You struggle to say between coughs. The archangels glance over at you, and you feel worry that doesn’t belong to you.


	147. So Many Ships But Mainly Samifer 1

_If I gave the option of requesting Imagines for fandoms other than Supernatural (Ex: Harry Potter, Sherlock, Percy Jackson) would any of you actually request anything?_

  
  
_**(Y/N) = Your Name**_

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Lucifer subtly flirting with Sam**

 

    Dean notices what Lucifer is doing before Sam does. The heavy eye contact. The seemingly accidental touches, the way the archangel never crosses his arms near the younger Winchester brother. Sadly, Dean probably only recognizes it because that’s what he does with Castiel. And, like his situation with Castiel, Sam seems to be catching something like feelings, but he isn’t aware of it. Dean glances over at Lucifer, who’s in a relaxed position with his legs uncrossed and his arms limp on the sides of the chair.

Damn archangel. Actually getting progress in under a month instead of having to wait years like Dean has with Castiel. Who the hell does he think he is? Of course, Dean can’t call him out on him flirting with Sam, or he’ll be a hypocritic. Because that’s exactly what’s going with him and Castiel. Lucifer is much better at the low-key flirting than Dean is, but that should’ve been expected. He’s the damn devil, after all. How could Dean ever think that he’d have a chance with Castiel, though.

    He isn’t his true vessel. He probably isn’t even a compatible vessel for Castiel. Which means that he doesn’t need to have a connection to Dean. Nobody ever willingly chooses to make a connection to Dean, and it’s taken  _years_  to just get Castiel to realize he can be just a  _friend_. Dean scowls as he sees Lucifer say something that makes Sam laugh. The mark on Dean’s shoulder is pretty much gone, but Dean can feel it  _burning_  when both Castiel and Lucifer are within two feet of the hunter. Lucifer seems to know that, too. He also seems to know what it means.

    Dean mostly thinks that because the damn archangel smirks whenever the hand print area starts burning. If anything, it burns worse when Lucifer is near Dean than when Castiel is near him. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Dean should probably leave before his shit self esteem makes him drink himself to sleep tonight. Dean clenches his jaw, watching the two for just a bit longer before getting up and heading into the kitchen. He opens the fridge door with a heavy heart and pushes a few things aside until he feels a beer bottle against his fingertips. As Dean stands back up and shuts the door, he jumps with a long string of cusses.

    “Hey there.” Lucifer says, amusement coloring his tone as he watches the human very nearly drop his beer.

    “Dammit! What the hell, man?” Dean grumbles, trying to ignore both the burning on his arm and the Devil’s smirk.

    “You really shouldn’t think so lowly of yourself. Quite a few angels are attracted to you, actually. Castiel  _is_  among them.” Dean scowls.

    “Don’t. Don’t joke about that you son of a bitch.” Dean snaps, causing Lucifer to raise a brow and push off of the counter he was leaning on. He uncrosses his arms as he approaches, and Dean backs up nervously.

    “I’m many things, Dean Winchester, but a liar isn’t one of them.” Lucifer rumbles, and Dean finds himself nodding in agreement. He scowls and looks away when he realizes what he was doing.

    “Sure.”

    “No, it’s true. If you ask Castiel he’ll tell you. So far, I’ve only lied six times in my existence to cause mayhem. I wouldn’t waste one of my chances on something like this.” Lucifer says, and Dean’s scowl turns into a soft frown.

    “Alright. Let’s say you are telling the truth. Why tell me?” Dean asks, and Lucifer smirks as he responds.

    “That’s for me to know, and you to find out. He likes when people approach directly, by the way.” Lucifer says before leaving the room. Dean finds himself staring at the doorway even after the archangel is no longer visible.


	149. Crowley 5, 10/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued another time (filler chapter so really short)**

 

    You know that something big is happening. You can feel this thick power swimming around you, and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Michael and Lucifer seem to be getting more and more powerful. They’ve even managed to  _evaporate_   _five demons_   _at once_  when said demons tried to kidnap you. You don’t think the demons know about the bond that’s formed between you and the archangels. You can feel the power like breathing on the back of your neck.

    Michael and Lucifer keep looking from you to the other, and it’s a bit unnerving. Because there’s a mix of confusion and surprise in their pale eyes as they do so. As if something huge has changed about you. Something big probably  _has_  changed about you. You have a bond with the two most powerful archangels. Who are almost exact opposites but also the same. Something is bound to change about you. The problem? You have no fucking idea what has or will.

    Michael and Lucifer are whispering to each other on the couch next to you. Something about escaping. You were worried before that they would leave you behind, but both of the archangels spoke to you for almost an hour as to why they won’t leave you behind. It was a bit heartwarming to listen to the reasons. You should probably sleep now. You’ve been on the verge of sleeping for a while now, but you’ve been waking up with nightmares since you got your own bed. You finally doze off after Lucifer wraps an arm over your shoulders and pulls you against his side protectively.


	150. Dean 11

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean getting shot with a cupid’s arrow so he has problems not revealing his crush on you**

 

    You’d just gotten back from a hunt, and Sam and Cas were patching Dean up in the living room because the evil cupid had broken his arm. The good cupid had come through and helped relove the bad cupid or something. Whatever. All you know is that it made the bad cupid not want to kill anything anymore. “Dude, I don’t know what it was, alright? It disappeared when it hit me.” You hear Dean say, and you pause in your walking, furrowing your brows. Is Dean okay?

    “Disappeared?”

    “Yeah, Sam. Vanish. Dissipate. Evaporate. Fade. Do you need more synonyms of the word or did it get through?”

    “Wow, Dean. I didn’t think you knew that many words.” Sammy says, his words colored heavily with sarcasm.

    “What did you feel when it disappeared into you?” Castiel asks, and Dean makes a pained sound as his shoulder is popped back into place.

    “I don’t know, uh-”

    “What you  _felt_. Both physically and emotionally.” Castiel cuts Dean off, sounding a bit stressed.

    “Warm. I think. Maybe even hot. It rushed over me like a wave. That’s why I passed out.” Dean says, and you can hear the scowl in his voice.

    “Hey guys.” You say, stopping what Castiel started saying as you walked in. Dean looks over at you and bites his lip a bit, green eyes raking up and down your body. You raise a brow at the not unwanted attention.

    “Hey there beautiful.” Dean says, immediately furrowing his brows in confusion afterwards. You raise a brow, and Dean winks at you before turning to Castiel. “I can usually stop that. What the fuck.”

    “Sorry, (Y/N), but Dean and I need to leave. Goodbye.” Castiel grabs Dean’s arm and pulls him to his feet.

    “Wait! What’s going on with Dean.”  
    “Later sweetheart.” Dean waves with a charming smile before both him and Castiel disappear.

    “What the hell was that?” Sam breaks the awkward silence, and you turn to hi with a shrug.

    “No clue. When’s dinner?” You try to ignore the blush that had settled on your face. Dammit Dean.


	151. Sam 8

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine you go jeans shopping, and you catch Sam looking at you as you try on the skinny jeans. Of course, you make fun of him for it**

 

    You exit the changing room for the eighth time, twisting in a way that may or may not be somewhat sexual so you can see how these skinny jeans look. You nod slightly, and when you shift your gaze a bit to the left you see a certain Winchester staring at your ass. You raise a brow, amusement flickering across your face. Kaleidoscope eyes don’t stray from said body part until you turn slightly. He glances back at the TV quickly, causing a corner of your mouth to tug up in a smirk. “Like something you see, Sammy?” You ask, causing Sam to glance at you and furrow his brows.

    “What?” Sam asks, sounding perfectly confused and innocent. If you hadn’t seen him in the mirror, you might’ve believed that he hadn’t been doing anything. You cross your arms, turning your hips a bit.

    “I mean, these skinny jeans are pretty much perfect. Good color, good length and width. They make my ass look amazing. I mean, look.” You turn to the side and then around. You see Sam glance at the mirror, and a deep red starts to crawl up his neck. You see him try to shove down the color, and you smirk.

    “You- uh, saw?” Sam asks, and you laugh a bit before nodding, enjoying how red the hunter behind you is getting.

    “Ohh yeah.” You say, turning back around to stare at the younger Winchester brother. He shifts awkwardly at being caught. He coughs and rubs the back of his neck, and you smile a bit as you watch him become so flustered.

    “Just- let’s go.” Sam mumbles, grabbing the jeans you’re getting and walking away with long strides. You roll your eyes and quickly change, and you barely manage to catch up to Sam as he’s buying your jeans.

    “Maybe I’ll let you get a closer look at the bunker.” You whisper in Sam’s ear before walking back to the Impala. Dean raises a brow at Sam’s red face, but he takes a look at your devious look and decides he’d rather not know.


	152. Dean 11, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean getting shot with a cupid’s arrow so he has problems not revealing his crush on you (Short Chapter)**

 

    Dean has been actively avoiding you since he got back three days ago. In that time, you’ve only seen him for about three hours, and each time he ran away after saying something flirty. You haven’t heard him say your name while talking to you. It’s always babe or sweetheart. Not that you mind. Not that Dean knows that. You sigh heavily as you fling yourself onto the couch, stuffing your face into a pillow. You kinda want to tell Dean, but you also don’t want him to avoid you when whatever is going on with him is over. Nobody is actually sure when whatever is going on with him will be over though. It could end tomorrow or in a few years.

    Either way, he’ll avoid you with this going on if you don’t tell him, but he’ll avoid you when it’s over if you do tell him. Maybe, just maybe, you can survive with only seeing Dean an hour a day. That’ll wreck you emotionally, but at least when Dean snaps out of it he won’t look at you like a monster. You scowl as you feel yourself start to tear up, and you grab a blanket and wrap yourself with it. You shove your head under a pillow. Sam is gone on a hunt, Castiel is trying to fix heaven, and Dean is avoiding you, so there isn’t much of a need to move off of the couch and into your bedroom.

    You hear somebody enter the room when you’re done crying and just hyperventilating. You peek up from under a pillow, and then you quickly shove it back on your face. You hear Dean start to head away, but he pauses audibly in the doorway. “(Y/N)...?” He mutters, and then you can hear him start walking towards you. You curl up in a tighter ball, clutching another pillow to your chest.

    “Go away.” You mumble, the pillow on your face making the words even less understandable.

    “You okay sweetheart?” Dean, of course, doesn’t go away. In fact, he sits down on the couch next to your arms.

    “No.” You reply, and it’s quiet for a few minutes. Dean lays a hand on your shoulder, and something akin to electricity races through the two of you.

    “Do you wanna go get dinner? Just us.” Dean asks, and you don’t respond for a few seconds.

    “I guess.”

    “Great.” You can hear Dean’s smile. “You’re aware that you need to be out from under the pillows and blanket for that.”

    “I know, just go wait for me in the Impala.” You mumble. About five minutes later you’re climbing into the Impala’s passenger seat.


	153. Crowley 5, 11/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, continued again**

 

    You’re woken up by alarms blaring, and Lucifer barley gives you time to throw on clothes and grab your things before he picks you up and sprints down a hallway. You snap out of your sleepy haze quickly when you realize that you’re not in the cage. And neither are Michael and Lucifer. Lucifer is a moving shadow that only you can touch, and Michael is towering ahead. That must be his true form. He’s huge and a bit scary looking, but the giant figure keeps shifting from unconnected lines and blinding lights to a glowing version of Michael’s vessel. Lucifer quickens his speed, and you cling to him.

    Honest to god this is probably how you die. You bury your face in Lucifer’s chest, letting out an embarrassing sound of fear as Lucifer barely avoids a jagged rock. Apparently, the release of the archangels caused hell to revert back into a sharp, molten place made of red and nightmares. There’s a light ahead, and Michael sweeps a giant arm one more time before he turns and starts running too. The light starts closing, but it’s closing very slowly. The two archangels pause in front of it, and Michael glances at Lucifer.

    “Are you staying here and fixing up hell, or are you coming back to heaven?” Michael asks, and you tighten your hold on Lucifer’s shirt. He carefully works his shirt out of your hands, and he hands you to Michael as you three step through the light. The archangel kisses you passionately before he turns and walks back into the portal. At this end it’s the color of hell’s sky, but with no dancing lights.

    “I’ll visit often, (Y/N).” Lucifer promises through the void before it closes fully. You stare at the hole for a while, Michael holding you gently against his side.

    “He’ll be fine, and Lucifer doesn’t lie. I have no doubt that he’ll visit as much as he can.” Michael murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he turns. There are two men that burst into the room, guns raised. One has long hair and eyes that can’t seem to settle on a color. He stands at about six feet five inches, and he has a few scars littered around his body. The man next to him looks vaguely like him, so he’s probably the other man’s brother. His hair is much shorter and a dark blonde, and his eyes are a stunning green.

    “ _Michael_?” He questions, sounding stunned and highly worried.

    “Dean. Take care of him/her/them for us. Please.” Michael says, turning to you soon afterwards. “You can contact both of us whenever needed, alright? I need to go fix heaven. It’s such a wreck they haven’t sensed our returns yet. Goodbye, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon.” With that, the archangel disappears. You’re able to turn and take a step towards the men before the world starts to go dark.

    “Shit! Catch him/her/them!” You hear Dean shout, and arms wrap around your stomach and stop you from hitting the floor. An arm sweeps under your legs and the other is against your mid-back. You don’t know what happens afterwards, because you promptly pass out.


	154. Sam 9

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Sam saving you after Lucifer captures you**

 

    You honestly don’t even feel like you’re in danger. You’re just highly annoyed. Like there’s some deadly fruit fly that keeps flying next to your ear and you can’t find it and squish it. Or if you try to squish it the fruit fly will kill you. You tense as you feel Lucifer glance over at you from the TV. “How long do you think it’ll be until Sam gets here? I’m betting fifteen minutes.” Lucifer says, causing you to raise a brow and look away from your book to glance at him. Why the hell is the devil so confusing?

    “Ehhh… Thirty-two minutes.” You say, turning back to your book after you answer him. You scowl a bit as you realize that the devil is going to leave you alone as he sits up and turns to you.

    “Why thirty-two?” Lucifer questions.

    “Two for him to realize I’m gone. Five for him to find out where I am. Five for him to find the fastest way to get here, fifteen for him to get here, and five for him to find out which room in this big ass mansion we’re in.” You say, and Lucifer starts laughing. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smirk a bit. You quickly turn to the TV so that the archangel doesn’t see your reaction. Hopefully Sam doesn’t barge in here without a plan.

    “It won’t matter. I won’t hurt him.” Lucifer mutters, and you glance at him with narrowed eyes.

 

***

 

    “(Y/N)!” Sam screams, and you sit up quickly. Of course, that woke Lucifer up too. You scowl as you rush towards the door, but Lucifer grabs your wrist and pulls you back. A knife is placed against your neck, and you glance at the clock.

    “I was right.” You mutter, but it doesn’t get a reaction from the archangel. Sam kicks open the door, a gun aimed at Lucifer’s head.

    “You know that it won’t harm me, Sam. And we wouldn’t want you to miss, would we?” Lucifer pushes the blade harder against your throat. Your hands fly up to Lucifer’s arm and wrist, and fear enters your eyes as you stare at your husband.

    “Let him/her/them go, Lucifer.” Sam orders, his voice as shaky as his hands as he stares back into your own (Y/E/C) eyes.

    “Now why would I do that, Sam? There’s nothing in that for me.” Lucifer mumbles, the cold blade seeming to burn the skin on your throat.

    “You said you wouldn’t hurt me, remember?” Sam says, and the knife point makes small designs on your neck.

    “Yes, I remember.”

    “Killing (Y/N) would hurt me. More than any physical injury can, alright? If you want me to be your vessel, then you can’t kill him/her/them.” Sam says, trembling a bit as he stares at you with wide eyes.

    “Would you rather (Y/N) be stuck with me when you say yes, Sam?” Lucifer questions, and you grit your teeth.

    “I’d prefer it over him/her/them dying.” Sam whispers. Lucifer looks between the two of you before shrugging, throwing you at your husband.

    “See you soon, Sam.” Lucifer says before he disappears. You don’t stop the blackness from consuming your vision as you fall to the floor, unconscious.


	155. Chuck 1

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being the child of two hunters, but you left that life behind to help Chuck write, and then your old life catches up to you**

 

    “What the fuck is a djinn?” You hear Chuck mutter to himself, and he cusses you out after he hears you laughing. “Seriously (Y/N)! This is as much your book as mine! You’re the one with all the monster knowledge. And what am I supposed to name the perfect monster things?”

    “The djinn are those monsters with tattoos and that smoke shit that make their target fall into a coma to live their fantasies or they can make their victims see their worst nightmares. And I don’t know. Who’s naming them?” You shout back. It would probably be easier to just go into the kitchen with him to grab a beer, but you  _just_  got comfortable on Chuck’s lumpy ass couch. You hear Chuck snort.

    “Dean.”

    “Call them Jefferson Starships.” You call back, and Chuck busts out laughing. You roll your eyes, smiling a bit as you watch some shitty show on the TV.

    “ _What_? Why?” Chuck shouts to you.

    “Why not?” You shout back, and Chuck is silent for a few moments before you hearing him typing again.

    “Good point.” Chuck comments, barely audible over the heavy sound of his crappy keyboard. You roll your eyes,taking another swig of cheap beer. You hear Chuck fall and cuss, jumping to your feet and racing into your friend’s kitchen. You catch Chuck right before he hits the ground, and you glance at your computer to see that he just finished another chapter of ‘Supernatural’. You drag the rolling chair away from the table, and you shift positions until you’re able to pick Chuck up.

    You carry your friend into the front room and put him on his feet, wrapping one of his arms over your shoulder and holding him in place with said arm. You struggle a bit to pull the mattress you sleep on up and on the couch, but you eventually get it in position. You drop Chuck on the mattress and jog back into the kitchen to get a cold washcloth. You place the washcloth on your best friend’s forehead before you cross your arms, taking a swig of beer as you sit on the even more uncomfortable chair.

    You glance up when the lights flicker, and you shift slightly. You know it’s probably nothing, but you were a hunter before you left with Chuck to help him write his book. But of course, you couldn’t leave the life behind entirely. You started having visions as soon as you left, and Chuck has been having them since he was very young. With as much as you know about a different world, you guess it has something to do with how much time the two of you have spent together. You sigh before you jog into the kitchen and grab the salt. You put it along the doorways and the windows. You jump as you see a flicker in the kitchen, but it eventually leaves and the lights go back to normal. You scowl, staring back at the TV again.


	156. Dean 12

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine being the first person Dean turns to when he gets back from Hell**

 

    You hear a heavy knocking on your door and you glance up, narrowing your eyes as you hear a small pattern in the knocking. Your eyes widen when you recognize the almost beat being knocked on your door. You jump to your feet and run to the door, almost throwing it open. You were expecting Sam, who else could you expect? Dean had died a few months ago. You freeze, tilting your head to the side a bit. Green eyes bore into your (Y/E/C) pair. Your eyes narrow, but you know that this isn’t something parading around in Dena’s body. You know the older Winchester brother too well to be fooled by something like that.

    “Dean?” You question, staring at the other hunter for a solid minute. He smiles a bit, and he’s covered in dirt. The flannel he’d been buried in is tied around his waist, and he step to the side to let him in.

    “Nice place.” Dean says, looking around. You stare at his back for a little bit, and you race at him, and Dean returns the hug that nearly cuts off his air supply.

    “The showers down the hall and to the left. I still have some of Sam’s clothes from when he visited that one time.” You mumble into Dean’s chest. The hunter’s chuckle rumbles in his chest and he pulls away. He gives you a chaste kiss before he disappears down the hall.


	157. Dean 13

_Sorry this took so long, Kayla. I had work I had to do yesterday and didn't have time to update this_

 

**_SELF HARM WARNING_ **

**_Also I don’t encourage self harm at all I personally feel like it’s a terrible thing and if anybody needs somebody to reach out to I’m always here. If you want to talk to me privately or something my email is zbrianna123@gmail.com_ **

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Dean finding you after you self harm**

 

    The water is stained crimson as you sit against a white tile wall, ignoring the cold sting against your back as you pay more attention to the slight burning on your wrists and thighs. Tears stream down your face, feeling cold as they trickle down flushed (Y/S/C) cheeks. Memories cut like the blade resting in your hand, and you stare carelessly as ruby liquid squeezes from small crevices in your skin and down to the floor. You feel cold but also on fire. You feel nothing but everything at the same time. Memories flash in front of your watery (Y/E/C) orbs, and scars that cover your trembling body tingle.

    A shadowy beast with burning eyes towers over you, and you shrink against the wall biting at your bare back. The monster disappears as if scared, and your vision clears at the pounding on the door. It rumbles through you like thunder, and it breaks the trance that you’d entered. You make a panicked noise, staring at the blood flowing out of your thighs and wrists with a new expression. An ashamed expression. A fearful one. The pounding echoes again, this time more urgent at your lack of response.

    “(Y/N). Open up.” Dean orders, his deep voice sounding rough with pain. You scramble back, and you try to wipe the crimson from your skin. “ _(Y/N)!_ ” Dean shouts, and a few minutes later the door swings open. Dean has a towel in his hand, and he throws it over the shower door and over your exposed body before he throws open the door. Dean leans over you, and you recoil. Instead of a harsh blow, warm arms wrap around you and lift you from the wet floor. Dean carries you to his room. grabbing a first aid kit on his way.

    You ignore Sam’s sorrowful look when you pass him. Dean places you on his bed, wrapping your wrists and thighs silently. You can’t read his expression, and it causes you to wince when he glances up at you. He gently takes your wrists, bringing them to his lips. Dean kisses along your inner arm, uncaring that it’s covered in an ugly colored gauze. He reaches your neck, and he just pulls you into his arms, not letting go.

    “Please get rid of your blades.” Dean whispers hoarsely, holding you tighter as your shoulders heave with your sobbing. “I promise, the answer you're searching for isn’t embedded in your veins.”

    “Poetic,” You start, but you’re interrupted by a sorrowful sound that claws its way up your chest and out of your parted lips. “Poetic, Winchester.”

    “Now isn’t the time. You’re gonna go to sleep, Castiel is gonna come and fix your wounds, and I’m gonna take care of you.” Dean whispers, and a familiar angel appears with the flutter of wings. A warm hand presses against your temple, and fatigue washes over you until you let your eyes close and darkness overcome you.


	158. Dean 14

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

_**(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color** _

_**(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color** _

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color** _

 

**Imagine Dean marrying his high school sweetheart and having two kids**

 

    A faint crying woke up the couple, causing a tired rumble to vibrate up Dean’s chest. He glances over at the man/woman lying next to him, his/her arm wrapped around their first kid’s middle. Their hair is the same pale/dark (Y/H/C) as Dean’s husband/wife, but her eyes are Dean’s emerald. Her pale skin is marked with uncountable freckles, just like Dean. The two year old is the only one not woken by her little brother’s crying. Dean sighs, rolling over onto his back.

    “It’s your turn.” (Y/N) whispers, his/her voice scratchy with sleep. He/She cracks open a pale/dark eye, staring sleepily at his/her husband. Dean groans, turning his head to glance at the clock beside his table.

    “Might as well get up. We can have a well cooked meal instead of restaurant food or fast food.” Dean says, sitting up slowly and swinging his feet over his end of the bed. He glances at (Y/N) when he/she throws his/her arm over his/her closed eyes. Dean cracks a smile as Belle, their little girl, JJ, rolls over and wraps her small arms around her mother/other father. Said mother/father smiles slightly.

    “Mmm.” (Y/N) murmurs in response to the promise of home cooking. Dean grins before he shoves himself onto his feet, shuffling over to their baby boy, Bobby. The boy already has freckles, but he has his other father’s/mother’s (Y/E/C) eyes. Dean gently lifts the baby into his arms and moves over to the kitchen area, humming “Hey Jude” and rocking Bobby as he rummages through the cabinets. The baby grabs onto Dean’s black shirt with a weak-grip, but Dean doesn’t really mind.

    Dean starts the coffee, still humming and rocking Bobby with one arm as he starts measuring things for pancakes in the other. The man starts bouncing his baby boy when he starts to get teary-eyed again, and the baby giggles lightly. “Hey buddy, you gotta quiet down. JJ and mommy/daddy are trying to sleep still, okay buddy?” Dean whispers, pouring the ingredients into the large red bowl. He shifts Bobby around until he’s able to mix everything correctly and without the bowl moving around.

    Dean puts bacon on a sheet, preheating the oven and grabbing plates and cups. He sets everything up, and he places drinks and cups on the table quickly. The oven goes off, and Dean puts the bacon in, setting the timer quickly and then spraying the pan before he starts making pancakes. He lets (Y/N) and JJ sleep until everything is done, and then he puts Bobby in his highchair and wanders over to his husband/wife and their sleeping daughter.

    “Hey sweetie, breakfast is ready. Why don’t you go and set up your plate and put Bobby’s bottle in the microwave?” Dean says, seeing that JJ is awake. Sleepy, but awake. The little girl yawns and stretches, but then she nods and climbs off the bed and wanders over to the table to do as Dean asked. Dean places a knee on the bed, leaning over (Y/N). “Babe.” Dean whispers, shaking his husband/wife.

    “Mm.” (Y/N) mutters, pouting and shoving a bit at Dean’s chest. Dean smiles a bit, leaning closer.

    “C’mon, get up.”

    “Don’t wanna.” (Y/N) murmurs before he/she grabs Dean’s shirt and yanks him onto the bed, curling around him. Dean laughs, and (Y/N) smiles.

    “Your food is gonna get cold.” Dean says.

    “But I won’t.” (Y/N) replies. Dean rolls his eyes.

    “C’mon, we gotta-”

    “Mommy/Daddy!” JJ shouts as the microwave goes off, and (Y/N) sighs, letting go off Dean and getting up.

    “Coming, coming.” (Y/N) says, and Dean rolls his eyes again at the look his husband/wife gives him. Dean wanders over and pulls out a chair for (Y/N) before he sits in the one next to it, grabbing a plate and settling down to eat with his family.


	159. Gabriel/Dean/Castiel 1, 5/?

**_I just typed all of the your ___ and then I realized that this didn’t need this why do I do this to myself_ **

 

****Imagine Dean needs to see hellhounds again, but the glasses have an unexpected added feature; they allow Dean to see angel wings. Now the hunter is being courted by two angels and this is probably gonna get hella gay hella fast at some point** **

 

    The second date is to a fair, and, hopefully, that’s where the angels will actually bring him this time instead of a restaurant in an entirely different country. Dean actually gets ready before the angels appear in his room. Of course, the bastards appear early, and Dean is completely shirtless. Now, Dean knows that he’s attractive, and, usually, he isn’t embarrassed when caught partially naked. However, something about getting caught shirtless by Castiel and Gabriel makes a blush climb up his neck quickly.

    “Knock first or something!” Dean shouts, bright red as he quickly pulls on a sleeveless shirt. Gabriel whistles, and Dean’s blush darkens.

    “Damn, Dean-o. I might need to start appearing even earlier if I get that kinda show before every date.” Dean ducks his head, unable to look Cas or Gabriel in the eyes. Castiel slaps Gabriel on the back of the head, walking over to Dean as the man pulls on a black flannel. Castiel grabs Dean by the chin when he still refuses to look up.

    “Gabriel is sorry for being an asshole, but he doesn’t know how to word it. Please, forgive him, or he’ll likely out the entire time we’re at the fair.” Cas says, and Dean glances at the archangel. Gabriel looks slightly panicked before he realizes he’s being watched, switching to a smug expression.

    “It’s fine.” Dean mutters, and Castiel smiles at the human as Gabriel sighs in relief almost silently.

    “Thank you.” Castiel whispers, and Dean nods his ‘no problem’. “Let’s get going, then.” Castiel says, and Gabriel siles before he snaps his fingers.

 

***

 

    Dean thinks that this might be a bit too romantic for his tastes. Or maybe it’s just enough, but he doesn’t want to admit even to himself how much he’s enjoying this. Gabriel is carrying a giant stuffed bear, that Dean will probably be keeping in his room, that Dean had won him easily in a darts game. Castiel is walking next to him, occasionally popping a piece of cotton candy into his mouth when the hunter wants some. Overall, everybody is staring either judgingly or jealously at the three.

    A girl comes up to the three, face ecstatic and smile wide. A boy follows behind her, looking a bit embarrassed and uncertain. The girl draws the men's’ attention again quickly, starting to speak. “Hi! Alright, my name is Abigail and this might be a really weird question and I’m sorry if it is, but can I take some pictures of you three? Because I’m a photographer and me and my friend really need a good picture that represents something big and you three seem to be in a relationship and like-”

    “Breath, kid.” Dean says, smiling a bit at her. The girl calms down a bit now that she realizes that the men will probably pose for her.

    “We’ll let you take pictures, it’s not a problem.” Castiel says kindly, and the boy relaxes behind Abigail.

    “Alright, thank you so much. This is Jacob, by the way.” Jacob waves, smiling nervously.

    “Nice to meet you two.” Dean says, and the celestial beings next to him nod. “Is there a way you want us to pose, or…?

    “Really, whatever you guys are comfortable with.” Abigail states, and Dean isn’t sure how he feels about Gabriel's grin.

    “Get ready to snap some quick photos.” Gabriel says, and then one hand has one of Dean’s belt loops in a strong hold. The smaller man’s other hand grabs Castiel’s tie, and he pulls the two other men closer to him, and he and Castiel are nearly kissing and Dean turns his head away a bit in embarrassment. There’s the click of a camera, and then Castiel hugs Dean from behind and Gabriel grabs the front of the hunter’s shirt.

    Gabriel pulls until Dean bends a bit and then he stands on his tip-toes, his lips nearly touching Dean’s. The hunter’s breath stutters a bit, and there’s another click from the camera. “I think we got it. Thank you guys so much, you have no idea how much this helped us.” Abigail says, smiling widely.

    “Anytime, Abigail.” Gabriel says, and we winks at Dean. The hunter has a small problem swallowing around the lump in his throat. These angels are gonna kill him.


	160. Crowley 5, 12/?

_**Does this mean I get joint-custody of your second kid too Cimorene14?** _

__

_**(Y/N) = Your Name** _

_**(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color** _

_**(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color** _

_**(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color** _

_**I should make it Michael/Reader/Lucifer but it’s too late to turn back now** _

**Imagine Crowley saving the reader after some of his demons attack him/her/them, c o n t i n u e d  o n c e  a g a i n**

    Sam and Dean are pretty cool guys once they’re done spraying you in the face with ice cold water and cutting you with an assortment of blades. You get it though. It’s all for their protection. Can’t have a demon or something living with hunters or shit will hit the fan before somebody can say “get the salt”. You haven’t actually seen Michael or Lucifer for about three months though.

Of course, you do talk over the bond and sometimes apparitions of them will appear near you, but it’s not the same as the real thing. It’s never the same as the real thing, and you know that there’s a very good chance it could be years before heaven gets sorted out and you can Michael and Lucifer again. And yeah, it’s sad, but it’s for the best. Angels can’t be locked out of heaven, and archangels can’t be held back because of one small, somewhat boring and average human.

    Okay, maybe everything isn’t as okay as you’re trying to make is seem. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re a depressed mess. You haven’t worn anything between sweatpants/sweatpants and a crop top for the last week, and the fridge has been stocked up on blue bunny ice cream like it’s the cure to a plague. A plague called sexual frustration, romantic strain, and a faint sense of abandonment. But you’re trying (and horribly failing) to try to ignore that and act like everything is fine.

    Obviously, Dean and Sam have picked up on your loneliness as either one of them or this actually really cool angel named Cas is with you. Cas is a good guy; dorky, sweet, and extremely gay for a hunter named Dean Winchester. But the two can’t manage to get their shit together for the life of them and just tell each other how in love they are. Recently, though, there’s been an angel that’s way too strong to be regular popping by to hang out with you. In fact, you’re positive he’s an archangel. His name is Gabriel, and sometimes you wish you loved the little shit instead of Heaven’s top two.

    You know that Michael and Lucifer are too busy to bother actually coming down to see you, so Gabriel’s company is a welcome distraction. The angel is actually the one who filled the kitchen with junk food for you, and every time he comes over he brings a new video game and/or movie to watch. As Gabriel put it, “you wallow too much in your shitty self pity and you gotta start smiling once a day or Gabriel is gonna punch a ho”. Of course, that cheered you up quite a bit. The way Gabriel words things always manages to get you to laugh.

    Of course, there are times (like when you shower or when you’re trying to sleep on a day everybody else is trying to do the same) where nobody is there to actually keep you happy. When did that happen? When did you need somebody with you purposely trying to make you laugh to be happy? You do try your best to keep all the dark things pushed down inside, but you know at some point you’re probably gonna break down and start crying. Probably while you’re out getting chocolate or something.

    At first, you think it’s Gabriel who pops up behind you. You hear the swish of multiple wings, but then you’re hit with the scent of pine trees and leather instead of butterscotch and possibly bad life decisions. There’s another flap of wings, and warmth and mint washes over you. You whip around, positive it was your imagination until you see your archangels standing behind you. You basically vault over the damn couch, dropping your blanket easily and racing over to the two much taller men.

    You practically run into Lucifer, and the archangel lets out a grunt of surprise but doesn’t move back. You wrap your arms around him, shoving your face into his chest as you plan on never letting this fucker go. Strong arms wrap around you from both sides, and you do your best to push the tears back. “Hey.” You greet, your voice a bit hoarse. You can feel Lucifer smile against your head as he places a kiss on it almost casually.

    “I think we’ve been neglecting you, and I’m sorry. Sometimes we forget that you’re unable to come to us if you get lonely.” Michael whispers, and you shake your head, unable to really say anything without your voice cracking.

  “I’m sorry, darling. We’ll take you with next time.”


	161. Hunger Games AU, 7/?

_(Kinda Short Chapter because it’s sorta just a filler chapter that shows you a few of the other characters)_

 

    Training. Dean ignores the hateful words or the amused looks coming from anybody not human. Usually the humans don’t even do anything, because why would previous ones? They knew nothing about non-humans, and they were very far behind in the strength and speed category. Charlie and Dean talk in low tones casually in French, making their way to the fighting block. Charlie crosses her arms and leans against the ropes surrounding the area, watching a vampire and a shapeshifter duke it out with minimal interest. She’s the first human to go past the ropes, and Dean just nods are her when she glances at him.

     _Make sure they know what you can do._  The look orders, and Charlie smirks a bit, putting up her fists in a defensive position. She loses, but it takes about half an hour for her to do so. She grunts in pain as she hits the ground roughly, and, surprisingly, the demon who knocked her on her ass offers her her hand. Charlie raises a brow before accepting said hand, getting pulled to her feet. The demon wipes her hand on her pants, but that isn’t very surprising. Helping humans can only go so far without something offensive happening,

    “Your turn.” Charlie says, speaking English for the first time in a few days. Dean raises a brow,

    “Really? I didn’t notice.” The man responds, climbing over the ropes and cracking his neck. He rolls his shoulders as a vampire climbs over the ropes. “Dean Winchester.” Dean introduces himself, holding out his hand. The vampire stares at it a few seconds before grabbing it and shaking his hand. That’s actually kinda surprising.

    “Benny Lafitte.” The vampire says. He backs up a few paces. The bell is rung, and Benny is suddenly on Dean. The man grunts before rolling backwards with the vampire. Down and dirty it is. The human twists and kicks, his feet landing solidly in Benny’s gut and sending him flying a few feet, Dean rolls to the side, and a fist lands solidly where his head had been.

    “That might’ve hurt.” Dean says with a sarcastic smile, rolling backwards again and landing on his feet. He charges at Benny, twisting just as he does and grabbing him in the middle. The two men hit the ground solidly, and Dean manages a few solid punches before he’s sent flying into the ropes. Benny practically appears in front of the hunter with a raised brow, a hand on his throat. He squeezes a bit, but Dean’s determined expression never changes. Benny looks a bit impressed.

    “Gonna surrender?” Benny asks, and Dean just smirks at him. Sure, Benny had felt the human’s legs moving around, but he never actually thought much about it. At least, he didn’t think about it until the legs squeezed and twisted. Benny lets out an angry growl before he’s flipped onto his back, Dean straddling his lower back as he pins and pulls his arms behind his back.

    “Gonna surrender?”Dean asks, unfazed by the growling vampire below him. Benny struggles for a good ten minutes before he eventually goes limp in defeat. “Gotta say it, buddy.” Dean says, pulling at the arm.

    “Fuck! Yes, I surrender!” Benny snaps, and he makes sure Dean isn’t in his way before he rolls over, rubbing his shoulder as he sits up. Dean offers him a hand, and Benny takes it. Dean doesn’t budge more than an inch as the vampire struggles a bit to get up, even as he puts almost all his weight on the him. This human might make a good partner.

    “Good job, man. Almost had me a few times.” Dean says before he hops over the ropes and walks over to Charlie. He has a slight limp, but he knows the injury will be gone before he wakes up tomorrow.

    “Hello, humans.” A man greets Charlie and Dean, the demon who beat the redhead trailing behind him a bit.

    “Yo.” Dean greets.

    “Hey. Ruby.” Charlie greets the two, nodding at Ruby. “You two don’t look like you came here to annoy us. What’s up?”

    “Was wondering if you two will consider a truce between humans and demons in this year’s Games.” The man says. “I’m Crowley.”

    “I’m Dean, this is Charlie. How do we know you two won’t just stab us in the back or poison us?” Dean asks, not once looking up from the journal he’s reading. Crowley raises a brow as he looks at the human.

    “It took Ruby almost half an hour to beat Charlie, and you took down a vampire in under…” Crowley glances at a clock, “fifteen minutes. I’d say you’re fast and strong enough to beat us back, and you don’t seem stupid enough to be poisoned.” Charlie glances at Dean, who she can see looking at her from the corner of his eye. She nods in a way only Dean will notice, and the man sighs before he closes his book.

    “Deal.” Dean says, holding out his hand.

    “There  _is_  a way to make the deal more concrete. It was used before the angels took over everything. And they made it so neither of you two go to hell afterwards.” Ruby suggests, looking directly at Charlie as she does. Charlie blushes a bit, glancing at Dean. The man is smirking, but he nods anyways. Charlie sighs heavily through her nose and leans in. Ruby smirks, and she deepens the kiss beyond what’s needed, because why the hell not?

    “Get a room, you two.” Dean jokes, and Ruby smirks as she pulls away. She winks at Charlie before she leaves with Crowley, and the redhead turns to Dean with somewhat wide eyes.

    “What the hell just happened?” She asks, sounding a bit breathless. Dean ends up kneeling because of how much laughing follows the woman’s words.


	162. Hunger Games AU, 8/?

    "What are you gonna do to impress the archangels?" Charlie asks Dean over breakfast. The man shrugs, getting a confused look from Castiel and an annoyed look from Uriel. The darker angel turns to the human.

    "You plan on going in there without a clue as to what you'll be doing?" The angel scowls, glaring at Dean with dark eyes.

    "I'm not saying I have a plan, I'm just saying that half of them are gonna be staring at my ass, one seems to be a bit obsessed with me, and the other doesn't like me. Or humans. Or should I say anything not an angel in general?" Dean questions, his snapping turning cold as he glares right back at the angel with angry emerald eyes. The man then turns to his sister, raising a brow. "Why? What are you doing?" He asks, and Charlie shrugs a bit.

    "Shoot some things, bow and gun, make a hut, maybe. They're gonna give me a low score either way." Charlie says, taking a bite of thick oatmeal with chunks of cinnamon apples and sweet blueberries in it.

    “I wouldn’t think so. You two are the first humans to survive in the ring with someone other than the other human. If you show a shred of intelligence, then you’ll likely get at least a five. And you’re Dean’s sister, and Gabriel and Lucifer like him. It’s likely with that you’ll be getting a seven if you do something a bit impressive for a human.” Castiel says, and Charlie glances at him with a raised brow.

    “Is that so?” Charlie asks, and Castiel nods, taking a sip of an amber liquid that looks like a melted sun. “What do you suggest I do, then?” Castiel shrugs, taking a bite of something that hurts the humans to look at.

    “Generate a shapeshifter to brawl with, and then go show the archangels that you understand which things you can and cannot eat. It will show them you have good strength and good wisdom, for a human at least. And your personality is filled with positivity. In a sick way, that will excite the archangels, as they find joy in sucking the positivity out of a person while they’re in the Games.” Castiel says, and Dean grimaces, picking at his brownie waffles half-heartedly.

    “Is the food not to your liking?” Uriel asks, and Dean glances up at him with a raised brow.

    “It’s delicious. That’s the problem. Where I come from, some people would sell their houses for just one meal like this. It’s sickening, and it makes the food unappetizing. The only thing I can really eat is the soup, ‘cause I can pretend it’s something Sammy made if I close my eyes.” Dean says, and Castiel furrows his brows.

    “I don’t understand.” The angel states, and Dean narrows his eyes at him as Uriel turns to the blue eyed angel.

    “He has high morals, Castiel. And he misses the family he’ll likely never see again. It’s common in those placed in the games, but we don’t know much about it as we’re too powerful to be in the games fairly.” Uriel states, and Dean rolls his eyes.

    “You’re plenty powerful until somebody gets their hands on a damn blade. Then you gotta send in an archangel.” Dean grimaces, remembering the ashes of a three year old who’d found an angel blade somebody had accidentally dropped. Or maybe it wasn’t accidental. Maybe that little boy was killed to show others that the angels have no mercy, and that nobody will be spared.

    “Ah. I almost forgot about that incident in the Human District.” Uriel says, and even Castiel winces a bit.

    “You should hurry and dress yourselves. You’ll be getting called down in a few moments, and being late will dock three points.” Castiel states, and Dean shoves his food away from him as he shoves his chair out behind him, standing straight before he walks to his room swiftly. He grabs the clothes that are placed on his bed; dark jeans, a maroon flannel, a stylish leather jacket, and black combat boots with a pair of fingerless leather gloves to match. The man rolls his eyes before he puts the clothes on quickly.

    “I wasn’t aware this is a fashion show.” The blonde man says as he walks out of the room to see Charlie in a chocolate tank top, dark jeans, and the same fingerless gloves and boots Dean was given but a few sizes smaller.

    “Gotta look fabulous as you kill a bitch, apparently.” Charlie says, punching the air in front of her with one hand as she flips her hair with the other.

    “Stabulous.” Dean whispers as they make their way to the elevator, and Charlie grins. The ride down is quiet, and Dean sits next to Charlie at the end of their line, as their district is the last.

    “See you soon, Soldier.” Charlie says when she’s called, and Dean gives a half-hearted salute, his eyes a bit sad as he watches Charlie enter the room. Large metal doors shutter close behind her, and Dean sighs heavily through his nose, placing his head on his hands that are propped up on his knees.

 

***

 

    “So, what did you do?” Charlie asks Dean over dinner, and Dean glances over at her with a smirk.

    “Showed them weaknesses, punched a bitch out, shot a glass out of Lucifer’s hand, then flipped them off before leaving.” Dean states, and Uriel chokes on his drink. Charlie coughs as she starts to laugh, and Castiel looks amused. “Believe it or not, even though these pants make my ass look fantastic, nobody was staring. Or paying any attention, really. So I did basic shit while nobody watched, got pissed off, stopped Satan from getting turnt, and flipped archangels the bird before leaving.”

    “You’re gonna get such a low score.” Charlie cackles, and Dean shrugs, smiling a bit as he takes a sip of an amber alcoholic liquid. They never give the man enough to get drunk, and it’s quite annoying, but being hungover for something probably isn’t ‘beautiful’ or ‘fabulous’ or however the hell announcers describe the games. In fact, they use every word but truthful ones like ‘violent’ and ‘unfair’ and ‘brutal’ and ‘filled with murder’. That, or nobody actually cares enough that the people dying are sons and daughters and mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers.

    Dean sighs, leaning back on the couch as he watches scores appear on the screen. When Charlie’s name pops up with a seven under it, Uriel starts coughing again as Dean cheers and pats Charlie on the back. Uriel doesn’t even bother trying to stop choking when Dean’s name comes up, a shiny ‘10’ rotating under his name.


	163. Hunger Games AU, 9/?

    Dean stares at the clothes on his bed with narrow eyes, shifting to the left as he stares at the clothes. Black dress pants, a low cut black vest, a white dress shirt, and a bowtie. Dean sighs heavily, pulling the clothes on quickly. The man narrows his eyes at the weight on his back, shifting. It doesn’t shift with the vest or shirt, it feels much more like the weight is in his back. Dean slips into his boots, pausing and looking at Balthazar as the angel startles him by appearing next to him.

    “You need something?” Dean asks, and Balthazar rolls his eyes, grabbing Dean by his hair and yanking his head back.

    “Final bits for your outfit.” Balthazar explains, dripping an amber liquid into Dean’s eyes. The man cusses, recoiling as well as he can at the burning sensation the liquid brings as it hits his eyes.

    “ _Fuck!_  Balthazar, what the hell?” The man snaps, allowing the angel to tug his hair into an acceptable position. The man can feel something seep into his hair, and then it’s styled again. “You’re gonna make me look like a hot mess.” Dean growls, glaring at Balthazar when the angel slaps his hand away from his hair.

    “Damn straight I am. I’ve been given a masterpiece, and I’m going to abuse your attractiveness to the best of my ability. Now go and wait for Charlie by the elevator.” Balthazar orders. Dean rolls his eyes, grabbing a roll as he passes the table before doing what Balthazar ordered.

    “Sup, bitches?” Charlie greets Dean and Uriel. The angel narrows his eyes dangerously, and Dean rolls his again.

    “Yo. What did Balthazar put in  _your_  eyes?” Dean asks, noticing the ginger rubbing at said eyes.

    “I don’t really know. Something silver and stinging.” Charlie says, and Dean nods, entering the elevator.

    “Don’t forget to be yourself! But don’t be too rude!” Balthazar shouts, and Dean rolls his eyes as the doors close.

 

***

 

    Charlie is the first one to go. Her smile is blinding, and she sits down across from Anna. The angel with deep red hair smiles at the other, her eyes full with amusement. Dean can’t tell if it’s false or not. “Hello.” The angel greets, speaking a lot slower than she did with the other tributes. Annoyance flashes across Charlie’s face, and Dean smiles a bit as the angel looks a bit surprised.

    “Hi.” Charlie greets, her words a bit sharp as she leans back easily into the seat she’s been give.

    “How are you today?” Anna asks, speaking much faster than she was before. Charlie relaxes a bit.

    “Pretty good. It’s not everyday you get to see a crowd like this.” The woman says, flashing a grin at the crowd. Balthazar makes a motion, and the woman winks as her eyes turn black.

    “Oh!” Anna exclaims, moving back a bit in surprise. Charlie laughs, her smile bright but her expression much more deadly with the now nightmare colored eyes. Charlie leans forward a bit, resting her elbows on her knees.

    “Balthazar is a hell of a stylist, gotta say.” Charlie says, and Anna nods, smiling a bit as she gets back into the gist of things.

    “He truly is. Your wings are marvelous. They look almost real.” The angel says, and Charlie nods, stretching the snow colored leather wings out before they relax behind her back, a bit tense.

    “He really is. You should see Dean. That boy is gonna make some mouths drop. And my hair looks amazing.” Charlie says, and Anna nods, shuffling through some notes.

    “So, and eight? That’s uncommon even among demons. I’m impressed.” Anna says, and Charlie shrugs, looking down in false shyness.

    “Thank you, it was hard.” The woman says, obviously bullshitting as she’d been done in about ten minutes.

    “I’m sure.” Anna says, smiling. “What do you plan on doing when you get back to your district?”

    “I’m not going back.” Charlie says, and it’s immediately quite. Anna furrows her brows, leaning forward.

    “Don’t say that. You obviously have the skills to survive the Games. Only two others scored above you, and one of them is your friend.” Charlie shakes her head.

    “You’ve got it wrong. I have no doubt in what I can do, but Dean has people he needs to get back for. I won’t allow two little boys to lose their brother. It isn’t right. If anything, I’ll probably save Dean or wander off and find a tall tree.” Charlie says, and it’s quite. Dean swallows a lump in his throat, turning away from the cameras aimed at him as his eyes start to water.

    “That’s… Unfortunate. I’m afraid our time is up, Charlie. May the odds be ever in your favor.” Anna says, and Dean clenches his jaw, standing as the bell rings. Balthazar fixes his hair before he’s allowed onto the stage, and he sits across from Anna silently, staring after Charlie until the bell rings. Then his eyes snap to Anna, much more cold and his frame much more tense. “Dean.” Anna greets.

    “Anna.” The man replies, Anna doesn’t bother looking at her notes.

    “A ten. It’s the first time in years. How’d you do it?” Anna asks, basically disregarding all regulations and rules as she leans forward.

    “I don’t think I’m allowed to say exactly what happened…” Dean glances out into the crowd, seeing the archangels nod. Lucifer looks amused. “Let’s just say, it probably isn’t something that they’ve seen before.” Lucifer and Gabriel nod when the cameras turn to face them.

    “Interesting.” Anna says, and Dean tenses up as more attention is brought to him. “You have a brother. One you obviously care for very,  _very_ much. Why don’t you tell us about him?” Anna offers, and Dean sighs a bit deeply. Something he can talk about that won’t lead him to insulting the angels.

    “Sammy. His name is Sam, and he’s the smartest damned kid I’ve ever known. He’s got a garden going in our shitty dirt back in District Twenty, and  _everybody_  cares for him. I’m just glad that when I come back I know he’ll still be the same as when I left.” Dean says, and Anna nods.

    “You said that nothing better happen to him. What did you mean by that?” Anna asks, talking about when Dean was saying his goodbyes. Dean tenses, fire blazing behind his eyes. Light illuminates the man, and he knows that not only are there two grace wings spread and up high on his back, that his eyes are burning the same color.

    “If anything happens to him, I’ll deal with the person accordingly.” Dean says instead of specifying. Anna is distracted by his wings, her eyes drawn to them like the rest of the angels. She nods, before she shakes herself out of her daze.

    “Well, uh, yes. We’re sure you will, but sadly, our time is up. May the odds be ever in your favor, Dean Winchester.” Dean nods, shaking Anna’s hand and then stalking off the stage to go calm down by repeatedly punching something.


	164. Dean 15

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color_ **

 

**Imagine getting distracted by Dean eating**

 

    Damn this Winchester and his ability to make everything he does look so goddamn  _sexy_. You’re almost sure he has no idea what he’s doing, and that just makes it so much worse. His plate is completely  full, so you know that this damn torture is gonna continue forever. The hunter is a slow eater. He makes sure to savor whatever he’s eating. In all honesty, that should tick you off, but it just sends a shiver running up your spine.

    Dean’s mouth is slightly damp from the burger he’s eating, and his tongue occasionally flicks out to catch a stray piece of food. When he moves onto the fries he takes his time, and licks at his fingers somewhat noisily when too much seasoning has built up on them. The man catches you staring and quirks a brow, causing you to clear your throat and look away, flushing a light red. You see Castiel looking at you from the corner of your eye, his blue eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed in confusion.

    “That’s disgusting, Dean. Use a napkin.” Sam eventually snaps as Dean gets whipped cream everywhere except for in his mouth. Once again, his tongue flicks out to smear off some of the fluffy cream, and your eyes follow the movement intently.

    “Don’t tell me how to live my life.” Dean snaps back, completely ignoring the napkin Sam throws at him in favor of smearing the whipped cream onto his thumb. He glances at you with a brow raised yet again as he likes the dessert topping off of his thumb, and you shift uncomfortably, trying to focus on the show on the TV. It’s no where  _near_  as captivating as watching Dean eat, so you struggle heavily with keeping your eyes off of the man eating across the table from you.

    You glance back at Dean, and you turn a bit more red as emerald eyes bore into your own (Y/E/C) pair. Dean takes his time eating dessert, ice cream sticking to a corner of his lips with each bite until a pink tongue wipes it away. You clench your jaw tightly, finding it suddenly hard to smile at the smirk gives you. If this bastard doesn’t knock it off -  _smear, lick_  - You’re gonna -  _smear, lick_  - Gonna… -  _smear, lick_.

    “Are you unwell, (Y/N)? Your face is turning quite a bright shade of crimson.” Castiel says, and you know that your blush worsens.

    “I’m- I’m gonna- Go.. To the bathroom.” You nearly squeak before you stand up quickly. You race to the bathroom like a damn hellhound is on your heels, and you close the door behind you, leaning on it heavily. You go over to the sink, splashing your face with cold water before you settle on staring at yourself in the mirror. You’re still very red and breathing slightly heavily, and you freeze up as the door opens and then closes, Dean locking it behind him. The man tilts his head to the side with a small smirk.

    “So… How about I show you how else I can get dirty?”


	165. Balthazar 2, 2/?

**_(Y/N) = Your Name_ **

**_(Y/S/C) = Your Skin Color_ **

**_(Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

**_(Y/E/C) = Your Hair Color_ **

 

**Imagine Balthazar meets the reader, a hunter, and immediately falls for him/her/them, continued**

 

    “Duck!” You shout, kicking up your shotgun from the floor, filling it, and then firing. The kickback is a pain in the ass, but you can handle it. The bullets sink into undead flesh, tearing holes through organs and skin thin enough to cut with a butter knife. There are animalistic screeches and howls that belong to beasts instead of men, and the ones on the other sides of doors respond with equal amounts of hunger.

    “Hit the ground.” Dean shouts to the civilians you’re trying to protect, and you continue firing,walking towards the zombies as Balthazar holds the door you’d been guarding. You kick out at a zombie, firing enough rounds in it’s head to take down a damn elephant. You continue firing, hitting one zombie with the butt of your gun so hard it’s head explodes. You and Sam force back the zombies, but one grabs you by your long/short locks. You’re pulled out of the room, but you close the door with you.

    You fire randomly, hitting and kicking and firing until you manage to stagger out of the mass of zombies. You continue firing, but your ammo runs out because you can’t suddenly be in a movie and have unlimited ammunition. “Fuck!” You hit a zombie with your shotgun like you’re playing baseball, and then you break out into a sprint.

    “(Y/N)! Your left!” Balthazar shouts from somewhere you can’t see, but it’s already too late. A strong grip closes around your ankle, and you twist as you fall. There’s a resounding crack that echoes through the room, and you let out a yelp of pain. You kick out with your good leg, using your elbows to crawl backwards.

    “Fuck!” You shout again, throwing your shotgun at the living corpse with deadly accuracy. It doesn’t help much, as the entire damn hoard is descending on you. You don’t call out for help, because you can’t risk Sam and Dean dropping the town’s citizens to help you. That’ll end in innocent lives being taken.

    “(Y/N)!” Balthazar shouts again, this time  _much_  closer. As the undead close in on you, falling over themselves to get to fresh meat, pale eye appear from the shadows that surround you like the walking bodies.

    “Balthazar?” You ask, somewhat dazed as you’d been grabbed by an ankle and dragged back, causing your head to have hit the floor solidly.

    “Close your eyes!” You find that you can’t as the man materializes in front of you, and enormous wings expand from his back and spread wide as a hand raises. White light flashes around you, and Balthazar looks back at you just long enough to see your eyes roll back into your head as you pass out. After all, a concussion, a broken ankle, and multiple chunks of your flesh missing doesn’t feel too good.


	166. Castiel 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay waddup I'm back from writing a book for my Nana w more words in my chapters how are you guys

**The reader, Sam and Dean’s little sister/brother, tries to help Sam save their brother from the Mark of Cain. While doing so, Dean attack’s his sibling before going after Sam. As soon as he’s human again, he goes and finds his sibling with Sam and Cas, only to find them near death. The reader reveals their feelings to Cas before dying, and Cas barely manages to tell them that he feels the same before they pass. Prompt (shortened version of it) by/from[Aяcнαиgєl iร fєєliиg รαรรy](https://www.quotev.com/YouThrewOfMyGroove) (on Quotev)**

        You’re half wondering how much it’s gonna cost to replace all the doors Dean’s kicking in as you race down the hallway, hearing a hammer being dragged across the wall. “Taking horror hints from movies, I see.” You mutter, speeding up as the scraping sound gets closer to you. You check that your gun’s safety is off, skidding around a corner. You barely duck in time, a construction tool slamming into the wall where your head had been. Oh, right. Demon. They can teleport and shit.

        “(Your Name), nice to see you still care enough about big brother Dean to come see me.” Dean’s voice echoes down the corridor as you haul ass in the opposite direction of your brother.

        “You’re sick, Dean. We can get rid of the mark.” You shout back, taking a sharp right as Dean appears down the hall from you.

        “What if I like the sickness? What if I _want_ the mark?” Dean’s voice sounds like it’s coming out of the walls around you.

        “That’s exactly what somebody sick with the mark would say.” You point out, barely managing to pull enough air into your lungs. Your legs feel like they’re on fire, your chest is burning, and your eyes are stinging something fierce. You also have a pretty angry creature pounding on your skull from the inside, probably because you’d been thrown against a wall a few minutes ago. A pipe somewhere inside the wall slams out into the hallway, knocking your feet out from underneath you.

        Naturally, you hit the ground face first, causing pain and something copper tasting to explode in your mouth. You groan quietly, moving to get back up and run again but you’re grabbed by the back your shirt and thrown into a wall. Again. Pain explodes again, this time behind your eyes, and you barely manage to focus on the blurry figure in a maroon shirt and a face that looks like your older brothers. It’s easy to see the color against the grey bricks and the tan paint. It’s a bit harder to focus on the blade that appears almost out of nowhere, the color too neutral to see against the wall at first.

        “This isn’t you, Dean.” Red flecks leave with your words, splattering against your shirt. You should really invest in some of those shirts that can’t be stained if you live through this.

        "It is now.” _Okay, Stiles_. Your vision blurs further as the demon approaches, the First Blade held loosely in his grip because, honestly, it’s not like you can do anything. You can barely feel your legs through the pounding in your head. Your skin is looking kinda purpley by the ankle on your right foot though, so maybe that’s a good thing.

        “I- Dean, come on. I know you’re in there somewhere.” Your (Y/E/C) eyes search for the green smear against peach and brown. It’s not there, black smudges having replaced them. You let out a shaky gasp as the demon moves, too quick for you to even get your hands up, his blade sinking into your stomach. Everything becomes kind of blurry after that, but you think that you see burgundy moving away down the hall, away from you, but closer to your other brother.

 

***

 

        You startle as you’re shaken, the motion causing pain to flood through your body. You’re cold. You’re so cold and you know that you’ve lost too much blood to come back from this. “-(name)? (Your Name)? Get up, _get up!_ ” You tilt your head to the side, staring at the colors of a trench coat and a trapped sky with unfocused, watery eyes.

        “Cas?” You mumble, the words barely passing your lips, which are probably cracked and pale. A pressure on your abdomen makes you hiss, pushing yourself closer to the wall, and that might cause pain but it’d be nothing to something touching your stomach.

        “(Your Name)? Can you- Hear me? See me?” You lift a hand shakily, resting it on the side of Castiel’s face.

        “I can hear you. I can see your eyes, your coat. Your hair. But not like I usually do. They’re just- Smeared colors. Oh, God.” You haven’t ever really gotten out of the habit of using that phrase, even after the many times Castiel’s told you that he really does exist.

        “(Your Name) I- I didn’t mean to- to, I- _no_.” You can hear Dean, but you don’t have enough energy to turn your head.

        “It’s okay. I know. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You can picture Dean’s face well enough, pale and hollow with panicked, tearful eyes. You doubt Sam looks much better, but you know he’s here. You can hear him crying. Damn, it almost hurts as much as your physical wounds.

        “I can’t heal you. I- I can’t- You’ve lost to much blood and-” Castiel’s voice is wobbling, you can feel wetness running down your hand.

        “Hey, it’s not your fault. It’s not any of your guys’ fault. I’m the one who decided to help, I knew the risks.” Your breathing is getting worse every second, more shallow, more shaky. It hurts too much to take normal breaths. Your vision’s getting worse too.

        “We never should’ve let you- We never-” Sam can’t finish his sentences, his breathing too wild.

        “Hey, none of that. I decided to do this. It helped you catch Dean. It helped you cure him, and I’d do it again if I could. If I had to. I don’t have any regrets when it comes to you three. I’d always known there’d been a chance that Batman and Robin would have to lose their Catwoman/Nightwing. God, the only thing I’d to differently is tell you.” Your eyes focus again on Cas, and he leans forward a bit.

        “Tell me what?” The question is spoken with trembling words, and tears stream down your face. Your hand had fallen from where it was resting on the angel’s face, your arms too weak to hold the position any longer. A sob gets stuck in your throat, along with a shuddering breath.

        “That I love you.” Castiel is silent, before he starts crying freely, the sound heartbreaking.

        “I love you too, please, don’t leave me, don’t go. I don’t want you to go.” Castiel has his face in your hair, and he’s cradling you close to his body. You can feel the heat, a burning contrast to the freezing feeling that’s numbed your legs. If only it could move up higher.

        “I want to. I want to but I can’t. It hurts.” You barely manage to whisper out the last part, and you feel Castiel nod. Your hair is wet, you don’t know if it’s with tears or blood. Probably both.

        “It’s okay. It’s okay, you can let go. I don’t- I don’t want you to be in pain.” Your eyes flicker over to where you can see Sammy standing.

        “I love you both. Keep kicking ass.” You can see Sammy’s head move, and you hope it’s him nodding instead of him shaking his head.  “Be the Batman and Robin this world needs.” Your vision is starting to go black, but you don’t want to go. Castiel knows. He knows and he wants you but you can’t stay and it’s not _fair_. None of this is _fair_ and you can’t cry any harder than you already are, and you can’t scream in anger because you can barely whisper. You stare into Castiel’s eyes, struggling to see the color as your world starts blackening completely, the darkness moving in from the edges. “I don’t want to go.”

        Something light presses against your lips, and then your forehead, and the numbness in your legs starts creeping up your chest, aiming for your heart. You can’t hear what Castiel is whispering anymore, and then there’s nothing.

 

_****If you don’t want just angst some v small extra**** _

 

        Your vision snaps back into place, your surroundings slowly fading in as color replaces the brightest blue you’ve had the displeasure of being flashed into your eyes. There’s not much color to replace things, the wooden paneling beneath your feet a dark brown, the walls grey, the cabinets a darker grey. There’s a singular silver desk in front of you, papers stacked high on either side in multiple piles, and a sleek laptop is lying between the stacks. There’s a grey chair next to the one you’re sitting on. The most interesting thing in the room is the woman with blonde hair staring at you from behind the desk.

        “Where am I? Who are you?” You’re tempted to get up and run, but the logical part of your brain keeps you planted in the chair, craving information.

        “Heaven.” The woman, angel, replies, still staring at you with an indescribable expression. Your eyes narrow.

        “I’m dead. Shouldn’t I have my own heaven? I don’t think mine would look like a boring business office with an unknown woman sitting in the middle of it.” The angel snorts, staring at you a bit longer before standing. You do the same, caution washing over you as the angel moves to stand directly in front of you. She holds out her hand, and when you look at it and then up at her in confusion, she grins. Somewhat ferally.

        “My name is Iahhel. God’s decided it’s not your time yet, I’m here to welcome you to the job.”


	167. Gabriel 7

**Imagine catching Gabriel’s attention while buying sweets for your godson and goddaughter (requested by[Yasmim KA](https://www.quotev.com/yasmimka) (on Quotev) except they were aiming more for godson _or_ goddaughter but I couldn’t choose so here get both)**

        (Best Friend’s Name) is gonna shoot you directly in the face as soon as you get home with her/his hyperactive children. Well, more hyper than normal. Kids under the age of seven are usually already hyper, but when you add an unbelievable amount of sugar into the mix you get five year olds that will probably be climbing the walls. For hours. Whatever, he/she deserves it anyway. You love the little snots, you really do they’re like your own kids, but this is what happens when your best friend sexiles their children because they didn’t seem to realize that having kids probably fucks up your sex life for forever. Or for at least eighteen years. Probably twenty something in (Boy’s Name)’s case. He’s smart for his age, but he’s already entirely dependant on his twin sister. Kinda like how (Best Friend’s Name) was with you during college.

        The store in the mall that you choose to take the twins to is so full of sugar you’re half expecting your teeth to start rotting after you pass the open glass doors. There’s an entire _wall_ of suckers and lollipops, and you watch as (Girl’s Name) grabs (Boy’s Name) by the hand and starts pulling him along with her to look at the flavors. You keep up with the two easily, probably because you’re a good two to three feet taller than them and one of your steps is about two and a half of theirs. They’re pretty small for their age, still. (Best Friend’s Name) is dreading the oncoming shoot up in height. You grab onto the twins’ hands, stopping them from running into the legs of a man with swept back hair. His eyes, which are a startling amber color, widen and he moves his leg before he gets hit with a flailing five year old’s arm.

        “Sorry! Sorry. They’re only five, they have no idea how to not be rude and disruptive in public. Like cutting people off when they’re walking.” You shoot a stern look down to the twins, and they stare at you with confused eyes and a slight head tilt. Jesus fuck they’re like _puppies_. “I’m trying to work on that. Well, (Best Friend’s Name) is trying to work on that and I’m mostly succeeding at that. They’re hers/his kids, not, uh, not mine. Not that I don’t love them. I do. They’re great. Just not when grumpy and lacking sugar, you know?” You’re rambling. You know your rambling. Your face is heating up and you’re rambling but you can seem to stop.

        “Oh, dude. It’s no problem. I get it, kids just don’t really pay attention all that much.” The man replies, completely understanding.

        “Do you have kids?” You ask, handing the twins each a bag they can fill with as much candy as they can fit. Which probably won’t be that much, as the bags are only ten dollars apiece and don’t seem big enough for how much they cost.

        “Nah. I had a lot of brothers and sisters, though. Big family. I remember what it was like. I was a bratty kid too, don’t tell anyone.” The corner of the man’s mouth turns up, and you grin back.

        “Yeah, same. We’re pretty close. Oh, sh-oot. I’m (Your Name), by the way.” You hold out your hand. Why are you holding out your hand like this is a formal thing. What the hell is wrong with you.

        “Gabriel.” The other replies, shaking your hand casually. Like it wasn’t kind of a weird thing to do to somebody you met in a candy shop in the middle of a mall. The two of you chat as the twins fill their candy bags, you keeping an eye on them the entire time so they aren’t, like, kidnapped or anything.

        “Auntie/Uncle (Your Name), we’re done.” (Girl’s Name) tells you, tugging on your shorts a bit. You look down at her, nodding.

        “Alright. Better get going, nice meeting you.” You tell the blonde, picking up (Boy’s Name) because he likes to feel tall. Gabriel nods, telling you the same as you turn away to go pay for the candy.

        “Wait, hey. (Your Name). Is this yours?” Gabriel jogs after you, holding up a fifty. You frown a bit, pulling out your wallet and going through it.

        “No, I don’t think so.”

        “Oh, it’s yours now.” The fifty is pressed into your hand.

        “You don’t want it? Or need it?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

        “Nah. I’m good. Be seeing you.” Gabriel does a half salute before going back over to the suckers, throwing some into his bag. You pay for the twins things using your own twenty, and you let (Boy’s Name) down because he wants to jump around happily or whatever hyperactive children do when they get candy. You’re shoving the fifty into your wallet when you notice a piece of tape with writing on it stuck to the corner.

        “That little shit.” It’s a phone number with a G and a heart underneath as a signature.


	168. Local Fanfiction Writer Found Alive and Hopefully Improved (Also if ur here from sterek-related things I'll get on that after this)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I live

It has been actual years and I have no idea if anybody even really still follows this series thing, but after like a long fuckin time (and quite a few writing classes) ur bitch is rewriting!! (Heads up if you leave requests I'll store them somewhere, but nothing new is going to be written until I redo pretty much everything.) Tragically, this means I'm going to have to look at writing that was done by my middle-school self (holy shit it's been a while since I started this), and that means that some things won't be re-written as I find them way too embarrassing for me to reread to be able to rewrite.   
  
[Note, though: You're supposed to be shitty when you start writing. It takes fuckin years to be good at writing. I'm still not good at writing. Pick up ur goddam pen or keyboard and write Mary Sues and "cringy" prompts and anything you want because you'll be proud and people will still like it and then you'll improve. Don't stop writing (like I did) or not start at all because you're afraid of being bad, because this shit is like drawing. You don't exit the womb with a beret and stained overalls and a Picasso-level of skill, and you don't do the same shit with writing no matter how upsetting it is. You pretty much have to start bad and then you have to look at things you're proud of or things that you hate and then go, "Okay. How do I make it better?" Go forth and write bad so you can get the "cringy" stuff out of the way so your amazing works have a paved, brightly lit road to walk out on.]   
  
Anyway, if one of the prompts was skipped (and if it was a fav/prompt that you specifically sent in), it's not because I have anything against the prompt - it's purely because I either:   
  
1) No longer watch the show and find that I would do a poor re-write of the prompt because of a lost grasp on the characters   
  
2) Could not make myself suffer through my middle school or early high school writing (you guys are fucking crazy for encouraging that but thank you for that -- it definitely set me on the path of writing, and now puts me onto a route that will hopefully lead to improvements in my writing)   
  
or   
  
3) Just haven't gotten to the prompt yet   
  
This time around I'm going to try and organize this book-ish thing in a way that's a lot more easy to navigate: Dean Imagines will be put together, Sam Imagines will be put together, Cas Imagines will be put together, etc. Parts of prompts will actually follow each other this time instead of any of my (fucking amazing) readers having to go through some sort of hunt ( ;) )to find the second (then third and fourth) part(s) of the prompt. I'll also try to make the parts a bit longer, but there's no promise on that because sometimes schedules get hectic.   
But yeah hi I'm (shockingly) still alive, and I'm super surprised that people still read this?? And vote and comment on it?? You guys are fucking rad. This version SPN Imagines isn't just going to up and disappear, but it is going to eventually be moved to an entirely different work as I actually start updating again. I'll post the link when I do start said posting, too. But yeah to finish this off in a super mushy way: I have no idea if the people who started this with me are still here (if you are holy shit do you have some amazing determination), but even the people who just showed up recently and still appreciated my work enough to comment and vote and add it to reading lists have been fucking crucial in my improvement and my want to start writing and then to start again. You guys have set me on this road that makes me want to improve and want to write again so thank you so fuckin much and I guess I'll see you guys soon.   
(Update Estimate: A week from this announcement. If not, blow my shit up to get my ass in gear.)


	169. LINK!!

Am back:

[tada!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030514/chapters/32315283)


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